


Cyberotique

by BlackCatula



Category: Original Work
Genre: Cybernetics, Cyborgs, F/F, Lesbian Character, Science Fiction, Strippers & Strip Clubs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-08-18 10:59:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 56,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8159807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackCatula/pseuds/BlackCatula
Summary: NOTE: This story is a FIRST DRAFT, and may lack a certain polish. The nice, edited version will be published on Amazon soon!SYNOPSIS:Rossybelle is a cyborg; an organic human brain piloting a carbon fiber, human-shaped body. Her old organic body is gone forever, replaced by an enigmatic Doctor after a horrible car accident left her paralyzed from the neck down, but still cognizant. Miracle or not, cybernetics aren't free, and with no family or friend able to foot the medical bill, Rossy is forced to take to the open road, looking for whatever jobs will hire someone with no home address, no ID, and virtually no human organs intact, in a pitiful effort to pay for an existence she didn't even ask for. What good is a second chance at life if it doesn't even feel like it's yours to live?Far from home and with nothing but the eccentric 80s fashion on her back and a creeper sending text messages to the computer in her head to keep her on task, Rossy has taken a job as a bouncer at a local roadside-motel-slash-strip-club, because a job's a job, right? This second chance at life will never feel quite like the first, but there's something about GETTING a second chance that keeps a tiny sliver of hope alive...





	1. Normal Human Circumstances

Sometimes life is best experienced without words getting in the way, but without words, how will we ever remember those experiences?

* * *

 

_ Nobody names their kid "Sherry Cashmere"..., _ thought the bouncer at the end of the bar as she watched the spectacle center stage, transfixed.  _ It's just as bad as names like Carrie Oakley and Ben Dover. No loving parent would ever burden their child with such a painfully ridiculous name like that. You're automatically limiting her potential, because with a name like that, the only thing she CAN be is a stripper, and I doubt "stripper" is what any parents wants their child to grow up to be. _

_...I guess I'm not complaining, though… _

Behind her, the beat carried on loud as thunder as the dance continued.

_ Look at the way she moves up on that stage...it's like she's not even here with us right now. She's stepping to beat and swaying to the tune, but her eyes look so distant… _

There was a shout from the crowd as the dancer took hold of the pole at center stage and began shimmying up it.

_ What's she thinking about when she does this sort of thing? Doesn't she feel the heat of everyone in the room watching her? Is she just really good at hiding her nervous, beating heart? How can she be so calm in the heat of a hundred judging faces? _

She became suddenly aware of the presence of her hand resting on her inner thigh, snorted at the thought, and purposefully crossed her legs.

_ Maybe she just lets herself get lost in the music. Maybe she just pretends the crowd isn't there at all. Just her and the music, and not a soul else up on that stage. Maybe she just can't feel all these people staring at her. Staring THROUGH her. _

A roar of applause shot up as a lace was undone, a clasp unsnapped, and a strap slid down. The movements became even more focused in response.

_...she IS getting lost in the music, isn't she? It looks like she's not even dancing anymore, but like the music is...inside her? The rhythm is in her bones. She's like a puppet on the strings of melody. _

_ It's like she isn't even human anymore, but more like... _

A tap on the counter brought her back into reality. She turned around to see the sharp, wizened stare of the barkeeper looking back at her. He brushed a hand over his face and began pouring a glass of some gold-tinted beer.

"...I didn't order anything," she told him.

"Not for you," he replied, his voice as wrinkled and tired as he looked. "No drinking on the job, you know that."

"Heh."

The barkeeper pointed to the audience. "See the man in the ugly beige leather?"

She didn't see him. Then she looked harder, and he came into focus with a click. "The one on the end who seems to be having a really good time?"

"You're lying if you tell me you can see him from all the way over here," he replied gravely, as if he had any other tone of voice at his disposal.

The bouncer hesitated. "...I can HEAR him over the music."

"And how do you know it's him you're hearing?"

She gave him a suspicious stare. "How do YOU know it's him?"

The barkeeper shook his head softly, putting the pitcher back down just before the foam reached the rim of the glass. "He's been loud as the devil himself since he walked in. Already had four of these tonight and acts like he's never seen a tit since his first bottle."

"You want me to deal with him?"

"We don't make deals, Rossy," he said, leaning on the counter. "Go take him this beer. If he yells at you for blocking the show - and I'll bet your goofy hat he will - you throw his ass out. We reserve the right to refuse service to loudmouths."

"On it."

Rossy took the beer in one hand, slid off the stool and began walking around the row of seats toward the stage. She wanted to smack the barkeeper for the comment about her hat, she took a great deal of personal pride in her unusual fashions. The hat was a key piece to her ensemble, a blood-red fedora with an extra long brim, belted around the crown to hold an oversized down feather that fluffed and bounced when she walked. Sure, she stood out like a blue collar in a boardroom meeting, but she'd much rather have people stare at her for her eclectic fashion than for...other reasons.

_ It's like she doesn't even see us watching her... _

There was another hoot and a cheer from the audience as a pair of leather gloves unlaced themselves onstage. Rossy moved automatically, trying to focus on not spilling the beer instead of the spellbinding movements of the dance. She heard herself secretly hoping she'd get to at least catch the big finish, and secretly scolded herself for thinking it.

The man wasn't hard to spot. He was half-sitting, half-riding his chair up in the very front row, on the corner, and was shouting like he was at a sports game. That beige leather jacket WAS pretty ugly, she had to admit. It clashed loudly with the two-shades-too-light green trim, and seemed to bleed right into the man's skin tone, making for a largely imbalanced fashion disaster.

...not that Rossy was one to argue, herself wearing a zebra-striped blouse and a pair of high-waisted jeans that disappeared into a pair of tight-strapped, pointed leather boots, not to even mention her trademark hat.

_...or a few other things. _

She turned to face the rowdy man, who was currently sitting in his chair backwards, clapping to the music as the dance continued. Even his slicked-back sandy brown hair melted into the beige leather jacket. He looked like the kind of high school quarterback who'd just gotten a new car and a fake ID for his 17th birthday.

He jolted his head to the left to see around her as she took her place in front of him. "Aww c'mon, get your ass outta my way!"

"You order another beer?" she asked flatly.

"Did I?" he burped back, waving her off with a buzzing motion. "Just a minute, you're gonna make me miss it!"

Behind her, a zipping sound could be heard just above the pulsing beat.

"Just take it, sir."

"One second!" he insisted, leaning into his neighbor's seat to catch whatever saucy action he might be missing up on stage.

"Please, sir."

"MOVE!" he commanded, shoving her aside. Except, of course, she didn't budge. Not expecting her to be quite so heavy or firmly rooted to the ground, the drunk gave her a half-second's confused glare, then hopped to his feet angrily.

"You're in my fuckin' way!" he shouted, a full head shorter than she was. "You're bothering me!"

Rossy towered menacingly over him. "From what I understand, sir, YOU are bothering everyone else."

"THANK you," said a man in a business suit beside them.

The drunk shot him a dirty glance, then retrained his double vision on Rossy. "I paid good money to see some hot girls tonight, and I gotta tell ya, your face ain't doin' me no favors! Move your tits outta my way or I'm reporting you to your manager!"

He remained puff-chested even as Rossy took another step into his bubble. "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave now."

"Like hell you are," he growled back, swatting the beer out of her hands and spilling it all over her excellent taste in retro fashions.

The audience cheered as behind her sullen, infuriated face, there came the flapping sound of an outfit hitting the stage floor just as the beat dropped and the music kicked into its final chorus.

_...damn, missed it. _

With a precise swiftness, Rossy grabbed the man's wrist and yanked him to one side, following up with a quick boot to the ankle. As he stumbled, she snatched up his other wrist and pulled him back toward her, holding the arm behind his back as her other arm wrapped around the front of his chest.

"Your ride's here," she whispered harshly into his ear.

She marched him out the front door, casting a glance at the barkeeper across the floor. He nodded back before resuming his book balancing or whatever it was he did all night. She wanted to risk a glance back toward the stage as well, but decided against it, in the interest of making a good impression on her first day.

"You can't do this to me!" the kid screamed, kicking and struggling against a pair of arms much stronger than he would ever be. "I PAID money to see this shit! I want a refund! Where the FUCK is your manager?!"

Rossy shoved the door open with her shoulder and hauled him out into the cold of night. "The manager pays ME to make sure he doesn't have to deal with YOU. So like it or not, I'm the best you get tonight."

"Put me down, bitch!" He tried to smash his heel into Rossy's foot, only to feel the pain shoot right back up his own leg. "Jesus fuck, what's that boot made of?"

"Leather," she replied coolly, releasing him at the foot of the steps outside the building. "Do you want me to call you a cab...sir?"

He angrily brushed the dust off his jacket, then took a step backwards to catch his balance. "If you do, then you'd better be the one paying for it…".

"We're not paying for it, sir," she said, crossing her arms and standing tall, a sentinel at the gates.

"Then refund me for the show you're making me miss!"

"Not paying for that either," she added, slightly less coolly. "You broke the rules that you agreed to follow when you stepped in the door, so we're exercising our right to refuse--"

"Why don't you exercise MY DICK?!" he screamed back, leaping up into her face despite the clear height differential between them.

She gave him a scowl, composed but not for much longer. "You're being extremely inappropriate, SIR, and if you don't want me to call you a cab, then you'd better start walking, 'cause it's supposed to snow tonight and I'm not going to be held responsible for--"

"I'M NOT WALKIN' AND YOU'RE GONNA PAY ME WHAT YOU FUCKIN' OWE ME!" he shrieked, in an octave Rossy wasn't aware drunk people could still employ. In another life, she would have been overwhelmed by the cloud of alcohol on his breath, but she hadn't been able to smell anything for at least a year now. She almost missed the sensation.

_...well, almost. _

"Sir," she enunciated concisely, dropping a tone lower, "...we here at the Silver Key don't owe you jack shit. You paid for entry, disrespected our establishment, disrespected ME, and are refusing my assistance. Now, I've been patient with you so far…".

"Whaddya want, a fuckin' medal?" he slurred back. "You don't scare me."

Rossy sighed impatiently. "Look, I'll just call the cab anyway. Worst case scenario, you don't take it and he flips you the bird for dragging him out here. Either way, I'm done dealing with you tonight. Good NIGHT, sir."

As she turned on her heel, she could hear his off-balance approach coming up behind her, with the expected stumble of an intoxicated angry kid. Not even one step up the stairs and he lashed out, grabbing her by the wrist.

"Don't you fuckin' walk away from me, you pussy," he spit, literally and figuratively. "You ain't leavin' 'til I'm done talkin'!"

And with that, he yanked her down toward him.

Or at least, he made an effort. Her body barely budged, and the man nearly fell backwards, had he not been holding on with such a death grip. He shook his head to clear away the double vision and gave her a confused glare. She frowned, but only as an automatic response. Beneath the facade she felt the freezing stab of mild panic.

He tugged again, eyeing her joints suspiciously. "...either you're really strong, or there's some'n fishy goin' on here…".

"Let go of me," she whisper-commanded through her teeth, "...or I'll make you regret it."

Preferring to let the words flow right around him like a river around a rock, he brought his face closer to inspect her arm, then rapped his knuckles against it. She felt an electric tingle with each one.

"...holy shit, that ain't a real arm, is it?" he said, incredulously, as he continued unpermitted to study it. "It's a proshetic--prospetic...prosset...it's a metal arm!"

_...SHIT. _

"Let GO of me!" she fired back, pushing him away as she withdrew her arm. He lost all manner of footing and crashed on his palms, the sudden jerking motion almost inciting him to throw up.

"...you're...you're one of those…" he managed, in between coughing and retching noises. "A faker. A mammekim--mannakenin...you're a ROBOT!"

Her eyes shifted away, then back.  _ Outed on my first day, huh? That sure is promising. _ "...it doesn't matter WHAT I am. WHO I am is the bouncer who's throwing your drunk ass outta the bar."

"Fuckin' robot try'na tell me what to do," he laughed, struggling to his feet. "Beep boop beep."

Under normal human circumstances, this would be the part of their confrontation wherein the heat of the rage building inside Rossy's head would vent out through her ears, making them bright red and scalding hot to the touch. But, seeing as these were apparently not normal human circumstances, all she felt was the unchecked buildup of excess heat in her brain, like a processor with no cooling fan.

"Man, no wonder they hired you, huh?" the man continued, drunk not only on cheap beer, but on his own swagger. "Gotta fill those diversity quotas, am I right?"

She felt her arm twitch, like a nerve with a sudden, shuddering itch that needed to be scratched. Red light creeped in around the edges of her vision. She licked her cold, rubbery lips.

"Hey, I wanna see somethin'!" He ambled up toward her, reaching into his back pocket with one hand.

The red light was pulsing now.

In his hand was a pocket knife, which he flicked open. "Relax, I'm just gonna jab this in your metal arm, alright? Robots don't bleed, right?"

The itch pinched harder.

"Let's see how good they put you together…".

She dove.

If there is one thing that can be said of cybernetics, it's that like any piece of technology, innovations are as sporadic and unpredictable as the numerous unconventional ways in which people put them to use. Who would have thought that within only a few years, legs once outfitted with small-scale pneumatic joints would be surpassed by special battery-powered electric ones, capable of far more precision accuracy and raw force that would give even the most seasoned veteran of prosthetics usage a tough time adjusting?

Rossy was in the air with a furious rush before the man even saw her step back. She collided and took his body down into the two-inch packed snow next to the sidewalk. As he coughed and spat out a mouthful of snow, she twisted the knife out of his grip and cast it aside. And, with a little more precision accuracy and raw force, she pulled herself back up to a standing position, despite the snow, with the man in a strongarm lock.

By the time he realized what had happened, he found himself unable to move. "...the hell just...what'd you just DO, ya cyborg bitch?"

"I put you in your place," she whispered hotly into his ear. "And I hope for your sake you don't ever question the bouncer again."

He snickered to himself. "I already told you I ain't afraid of you…".

She raised a hand in front of his face and extended her middle finger. Then, with a flick of her wrist, the finger snapped backwards, ejecting a silver rod that gleamed in the moonlight in its place. A few additional hand acrobatics flipped the rod open, spun it around, and clicked it back into place to reveal the tantalizing edge of a butterfly knife.

Rossy pressed the flat side of it up against his neck and said, low and menacing, "...you should be."

When he didn't respond, she released him, giving him a push forward. Amazingly, somewhere between the underperformance of inebriation and the overcompensation of walking on snow, he managed to catch his balance. Taking a few moments to gather himself and process what had just happened to him, he gave Rossy a weird look and ceremoniously stuffed the pocket knife back into its namesake place of honor.

And before he could add his two cents back into the conversation, she pointed behind him. "There's your cab."

He turned to see the blinding lights of a taxi pulling up to the curb behind him. He turned again to sputter a few words of confusion back at her.

"Good night...SIR."

And with that, she spun flawlessly on the heel of her boot, strolling casually but with purpose back up the steps and back into the Silver Key Motel and Erotic Beautique.

Door safely shut behind her, she finally exhaled and acknowledged the blinking red light on the edge of her vision. The words "You shouldn't have done that..." hovered in front of her, cold and condescending.

"Shut up," she muttered back. "You made me miss the finale."


	2. Contagious Dry Sarcasm

**Chapter 2**

 

Sergey had never explained to her why he called his motel "The Silver Key". The name made it sound like some kind of swanky, plush-carpet, glass chandelier hotel for rich, extravagant types, but it was really just another budget roadside motel slash bar that just happened to also have a full stage with a stripper pole and a cast of erotic dancers on the payroll. Something about it all just seemed very...out of place.

_ Oh, who am I kidding, the whole thing's fishy as hell, _ Rossy thought bitterly as she turned the page of her book.  _ Everything about this whole arrangement is just a molotov cocktail ASKING to be lit on fire. I'm living out of a sleazy motel, room and board paid for straight out of my check, working as a bouncer - no, that's not right..."Security Support Specialist" is what Sergey calls it - and I'm surrounded by a gang of strippers. This doesn't feel like a "bouncer" job...this is almost more like being hired muscle at a pimp house… _

She snuck a glance at him, washing plates in the cramped kitchen behind the bar.

_...so if this IS just a pimp house, then why is the pimp himself washing his own dishes? I mean, he really doesn't LOOK like the shepherd of a whore flock. He actually looks like one of those true-blue old-timey bartenders...wrinkled face, receding hairline, well-kept goatee...he looks like the kind of guy who'd never ask you to do anything he couldn't do himself, because he didn't think you'd be able to do it as WELL as he did. Like the kind of person reluctant to even so much as HIRE any other employees… _

She flipped another page automatically, not even reading from the book anyway.

_...so then how did a goddamn mechanical human monstrosity like me end up one of the lucky ones? _

A sigh and a barstool creak interrupted her thoughts. She snapped back into focus and stopped reading the book she hadn't even been reading in the first place as a young woman took a seat a couple of stools away from her. She had fair skin and a sweep of shoulder-length wheat colored hair, styled like a pixie cut that had overstayed its welcome. She was somewhat on the short side, but it wasn't fair to call her small, especially not in a cocktail dress with a neckline like that one. It was rude to stare, but Rossy seemed to have some trouble putting her eyes back on the page.

"Sergey, can you get me a glass of the usual?" she said in a low, rich voice.

From the kitchen, an acknowledged grunt.

Rossy had just managed to put her attention back on the book in her hands right as the woman turned her way. The custom-textured silicone skin of her forehead was incapable of producing sweat, and there was no blood inside her body to turn her ears red, but Rossy could FEEL the woman's gaze on her nonetheless. Such a sensation was supposed to be a natural reaction produced by and processed within her brain, commonly known as "emotions", but robots weren't supposed to have feelings.

That didn't stop her heart from speeding up just a bit.

"Hey," the woman called over, gently.

Rossy bit her lip, inhaled, then turned her head deliberately. "...me?"

"Sorry to bother you," she said with a wave, "...but I don't think we've met?"

Rossy blinked as the lady pushed a stray lock of hair from her face, and then lit up with the realization that it was a face she knew. She just hadn't recognized it with clothes on.

"I saw you taking out the trash last night," the dancer continued, turning the rest of her body and crossing her legs politely. "You're our new bouncer, then?"

Rossy nodded, barely remembering to smile and hold out her hand as she focused on keeping her eyes pointed in the right direction. "Rossybelle. And no, the job description wasn't 'bouncer', it was 'Security Support Specialist'."

The dancer muffled a laugh and shot a raised eyebrow toward the barkeeper. "Really, Sergey? Don't tell me you're finally going corporate on us."

Sergey shrugged, placing a glass of some light, urine-colored drink on the bar beside her. "Professionalism keeps the cops away. Most of them, anyway."

_ Well that's a totally normal response... _

The dancer shook her head and finally took Rossy's hand, giving it a dainty shake. "Rossybelle, huh? And which name should I give you?"

"...what?"

"Who even was I last night?" she continued, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. "I change names so often...was it Brandy Foxx? Cherry Liplock?"

It was Rossy's turn to raise an eyebrow. "...Sherry Cashmere?"

The dancer grinned. "All terrible names, aren't they?"

"...uh, I mean...they're all very…" she paused, watching her take a small sip of her drink, "...indicative of your profession?"

"Thanks, I tried to make them as pin-up model sounding as possible," came the reply, with a dismissive wave. "You can call me whichever one you want, really, I won't mind."

"O-okay…".  _ But which one SHOULD I pick? Is there a right answer to this question? Should I pick one that somehow emphasizes the importance of personality over beauty? Or since you're a stripper, maybe you actually PREFER one that sounds as nice as your as body looks? Er...I mean...SHIT! _ "...well, uh…".

"OR," she added with a knowing smile, "...you can just use my real name. It's Millie."

_...oh thank GOD. _

"Millie," Rossy repeated, with a nod and the digital equivalent of a relieved sigh. "A pleasure to meet you."

"Ooh, so formal and polite," Millie replied. "Sergey, did you finally take my advice and hire a bouncer with some actual manners?"

There was another grumble from the kitchen.

Unsure how to follow up, Rossy simply offered a shrug. "What can I say, Mama raised me to be polite."

"Well I admit, it's a nice change of pace from the usual leather jackets, the factory workers, and the rednecks who look at us like we're a free show when we're not on stage," Millie said, raising her glass.

"I can only imagine," said Rossy, who definitely wasn't looking at her like she was a free show when not on stage.

There was an empty lull in the conversation as Millie took a long draught. To keep her eyes busy, Rossy carefully dogeared the open page in her book and pushed it aside.

"What are you reading?" Millie asked before Rossy was ready.

"Uhmm…".

"God, what a huge book," she remarked, reaching out a slender arm to pull it towards her. "What is this, 'War and Peace'?"

"It's, uh…".  _ Oh shit, which book am I using again? Uh...I just swapped it out yesterday! Dammit! _

With a click faster than the blink of a human eye, she scanned the spine of the book as Millie examined the front, and they both said the title aloud in unison. "'The Stone and The Flute?'"

Millie gave her a curious look, glanced back down at the cover, then back up at her. "...weird, I wouldn't have pegged you as a swords and elves kind of girl."

_...close one. _

"Eh, you know, it's just...something to pass the time," she finished, somewhat lamely.

Millie took a few seconds to flip through all 800-some-odd pages of the book. "...you must have a lot of time to pass then, holy shit. I take it you don't get out much?"

Rossy frowned. "I get out...just...well, no, I guess not very much. Especially now that I have this job...".

Millie shrugged and handed the book back. "What, Sergey already working you like a dog, even on your first day?"

If looks could kill, Sergey's expression would be wanted in four states.

"Nooooo," she replied, stretching the word to buy enough time for her to stretch the truth. "It's more like...I don't really have a lot of places TO go."

_ Yeah, good answer. Just keep deflecting like that. The less she knows about your situation, the better… _

Unfortunately, Millie seemed more curious than caution would allow. "...you're really not from around here, are you? I know we LOOK like a sleepy little hick town out in the frozen middle of nowhere, but even nerds like you can find SOMETHING to do around here."

"Nerds?" Rossy protested, crossing her arms. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Millie replied with a sound like a muffled sneeze. "Come on. Fantasy books as thick as my fist, wacky but, eh, 'oddly compelling' fashion sense, total shut-in? You're a bonafide nerd, face it."

"I'll show you bonafide," she shot back, though she honestly had no idea what she meant by it and how it would help her anti-nerd case. "Besides, what makes you think I'm not from around here?"

"It's a pretty small town," Millie answered casually. "We KNOW an outsider when we see one."

There was something in her tone...something about the way she managed to phrase those particular words - ESPECIALLY "outsider" - so casually...so nonchalantly...it set a chill to Rossy's spine. Or at least, that's what her brain told her it had interpreted. Really, her body had remained stone still as the imaginary shudder passed through her. It was such a bizarre thing, even after a year of human cyborg relations, her organic parts still hadn't quite fully adapted to the quirks and limitations imposed by their cybernetic counterparts. And vice-versa, for that matter.

"...outsider?" Rossy repeated, voice low.

"Well you don't have to make it sound all ominous like that," Millie replied, brushing it away. "All I meant was there's a certain attitude people have around here. It's just a thing from up here in Barrinten. And you don't have that thing. Get it?"

She exhaled.  _ For a second there it sounded like she KNEW...another crisis averted, I guess. But I don't know how much more of this hopscotching around I can take… _

Before she could take a moment to relax on it though, Millie pressed again. "So where ARE you from, then?"

_ Deflect… _

"Oh, you know…" she said, warily, "...around."

"Oh, Around, huh?" Millie pushed her empty glass along the counter. "Never been there myself, but I heard it's very nice in summer."

"Listen, smartass…".  _ Whoa, don't get ahead of yourself, Rossy...deflect! _ "...I'm just…I'm new in town, that's all you need to know. I'm here for...business reasons."

_...nice. _

"Mhmm, sure," came the reply, smug as it was calm. "You left the boring old town of Around in search of an exciting new business prospect as a 'Security Support Specialist', and ended up in a sleepy little mountain town in the middle of the back-asswards frozen nowhere. Makes perfect sense to me."

Rossy glared back at her.  _ Y'know, you may be drop-dead gorgeous and then some, but your attitude's really starting to rub me the wrong way. Keep your nose outta my business. Don't make me dredge up the things I've been through and the life I lost to get here. _

With an almost eerie sort of ESP, Millie seemed to pick right up on her feelings. "...eh, sorry if that sounds mean, or nosy or whatever. I'm just playing. Being a stripper in a town like this gives you a certain appreciation for dry sarcasm pretty quickly."

And then she shot a side glance toward the kitchen. "You could almost say it's contagious."

"Too bad you're out of sick days," came Sergey's reply, as if he'd been listening the whole time. "...'til January, anyway."

Millie chuckled, shaking her head. "See? What an asshole, this guy. I love him."

Sergey shrugged and resumed polishing a glass mug, in the truest of bartender spirit.

Rossy remained unconvinced...but allowed herself to breathe nonetheless. The toughest part of trying to keep yourself invisible was that eventually, someone would bump into you anyway. You had to move quickly to avoid further detection, or risk people trying to figure you out on their own.

"Hey," Millie interrupted her thought bubble, leaning a bit closer. "Try not to let it get to you, okay? You don't have to tell me, but you don't have to be quiet either. You work at the Silver Key now, so...you're family as far as I'm concerned."

"...family?" The word cut like a scalpel, and tasted like cold water in summertime.

"That's what I said," she nodded, tugging the strap of her dress back into place. "You live in our house, you're one of us. Better to get used to it now than try lone wolfing it, eh?"

Rossy sighed. The very attractive girl with the wheat-colored hair and the sharp slender nose and the deep dark eyes and the other enticing places that Rossy was definitely not trailing her eyes down towards did have a point.  _ This isn't just my job now. This is my home. This is my life. _

_ And honestly, I can imagine a worse family to be stuck with. _

"C'mon, let's make it official," Millie added, scooting her stool up closer and pulling out a phone from some exciting and mysterious pocket inside the hem of her dress. "Gimme your best duckface!"

Rossy felt her mechanical limbs seize up and her heart start to cartwheel as Millie slid off her own stool and sidled up beside hers. She opened the camera app and threw am enthusiastic arm over Rossy's shoulder, almost sloshing leftover beer over the side of her glass.

"Whoa, uh, hold on there," she stuttered, instinctively grabbing the brim of her hat to obscure her face.

"What? Oh yea, you're right," Millie agreed, "You don't even have a drink! Sergey, what's the matter with you? Hook the girl up already!"

"She's on the clock," Sergey replied sternly, pouring a glass anyway. "And soon you will be too."

"Really, it's okay," Rossy said, palms up, waving her hands back and forth. "I-I'm not...I don't drink--I mean, I don't NEED a drink…".

"Don't worry, I'll pay for it," Millie assured her, taking the glass from Sergey.

"No, I'm serious--"

"C'mon, let's toast instead!"

"Millie!"

"Here, you can make all your friends jealous, show them a picture of you and your new hot stripper girlfriend," she joked, angling the phone to center the frame. "Want me to sit on your lap and pose?"

"I...wait...j-just...one second, please, I…!"

"Okay, now glass up and toast me!"

And as Millie held up the glass, the entire bottom, the little foot that separated the beer from the counter, abruptly detached and fell onto the counter with a loud  _ clunk _ , along with all the contained beverage with a slosh. Millie instinctively hopped backward as beer flooded the counter, and she yelped as her phone slipped from her hand into the air.

Time slowed and reality hiccuped as Rossybelle automatically made three distinct movements. She pitched herself backwards in the stool, knocking it off balance, snatched the phone with the precision and speed of a hungry chameleon, and landed on the floor with her legs split, in a move so quick it should have rightly torn every muscle from her knees to her ass cheeks...had she been outfitted with traditional flesh and bone, that is.

For a moment, Millie remained frozen in place, looking down precariously to see if her cocktail dress had been ruined. She either hadn't noticed Rossy or was unfazed by her inhuman reaction speeds and flawless dance moves. Instead, she shot a curious glance at the glass in her hands, then an accusatory one over at Sergey.

...who, during the four seconds this had all taken place in, had dove forward with a towel in hand, slipped on the wet linoleum behind the counter, and involuntarily followed Rossy's lead in executing a perfect split. He uttered a painful growl, wondering if he'd just torn every muscle from his knees to his ass cheeks.

And, as Millie held the glass horizontal, poking an experimental finger through the empty hole at the end, something incredible happened.

For the first time in as much as a year, Rossy laughed.


	3. Strong, Silent, and Intimidating, In That Exact Order

Sadness never lasts forever. Even if it's only a moment, nothing more than an eye in a hurricane, a single moment of contentment is a saving grace that cuts through the despair and hopelessness of a tragic lifetime, reminding us all why we bear such pain and frustration. So that we may live to see another tiny fragment of happiness.

Unfortunately, because yang is always balanced by yin, Happiness never lasts forever either.

The red light at the corner of her vision was slowly pulsing again. Rossy took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She was alone, in her tiny room at the far end of the motel parking lot, pretending she needed sleep like a normal Organic human. She'd put her entire body into low-power mode, reading an ebook from the text superimposed over her vision, when the dreaded light had come on.

Cybernetic eyes were a new invention, but the groundwork for the technology had already been around for years. People with money to burn - or those who worked in that magical land of tech startup companies called the Silicone Valley - were long since past familiar with movement and range detection hardware and software. Historically, the most practical application for this technology was video games and interactive tutorial videos, but ingenuity never fails to breed exciting new possibilities at every turn.

The cybernetic eyes in Rossybelle's head used this same movement detection algorithm against a virtual touchscreen interface that worked not unlike a typical smartphone. Pointing the eyes up, down, left, or right was like moving a cursor, and blinking the eye acted like a tap or a click, using the same thought-controlled technology that taps into incoming brain signals to interpret basic commands like closing a prosthetic fist, or taking steps with prosthetic legs. The virtual "touchscreen" was "displayed" like a translucent image superimposed over her field of vision, like a private window she could bring up at will, any time she wanted to.

...well, mostly private.

She dutifully closed the ebook app, sat up straight on her bed, and tapped on the red light on the edge of her vision. A chat window popped up.

_ D0N'T F0RGET, Y0U'RE N0T 0N VACATI0N, R0SABEL. _

"What do you want now?" she asked aloud, watching as the words appeared on the screen in the reply box. "And that's not how you spell my name."

She waited.

_ AUT0-C0RRECT D0ESN'T CARE THAT Y0UR PARENTS SPELLED Y0UR NAME WR0NG 0N Y0UR BIRTH CERTIFICATE. _

"Just tell me what you want," she replied, somewhat impatiently. The pause between speech-to-text conversion and waiting for the text reply made conversations like this much more difficult and grating.

_ ALL WE WANT IS F0R Y0U T0 KEEP THIS J0B, R0SIE. THE PAY'S PRETTY G00D F0R AN ENTRY-LEVEL P0SITI0N. _

"Don't try to pretend you're looking out for me," she grumbled back, sourly. "I know what the deal is. I just MAKE the money, you're the one that actually GETS it."

Outside, the headlights flared through the venetian blinds as a truck passed loudly down Main Street.

_ N0T ALL 0F IT. Y0U'RE 0N A PAYMENT PLAN, REMEMBER? _

"How could I forget?" she scoffed. She wished speech-to-text had a way of accurately conveying the biting, angry nature of a good scoff - a fusion of snorting and coughing, equal parts nasal and guttural - but alas, software technology and cybernetics were still only capable of so much.

_ KEEP IN MIND H0W G00D Y0U HAVE IT, R0SIE. WE D0N'T N0RMALLY GIVE PE0PLE IN Y0UR P0SITI0N PAYMENT PLANS, 0R ANYWHERE NEAR THE AM0UNT 0F FREED0M WE'VE GIVEN Y0U. _

Rossy didn't reply. She crossed her arms and threw herself against the pillow she didn't need to use. Robots don't sleep, either.

Okay, so 'robot' wasn't the right word to use. She knew that. But with circumstances like hers, she may as well be one anyway. Robots were creatures, built with no choice but to obey a strict set of rules and parameters to carry out a task that was either too complex or too arduous for an Organic being to do themselves. Organics had full autonomy and free will over their bodies and their choices. Cyborgs were Organics augmented by robot bodies or body parts that allowed them to carry out complex and arduous tasks while maintaining that autonomy and free will. Cyborgs were supposed to be superior Organics.

_ So how the hell did I end up on the wrong end of the food chain like this? _ Rossy asked herself bitterly, the same question she'd been asking herself for the past year…

_ JUST STAY F0CUSED, THAT'S ALL WE'RE ASKING. _

Before she could open her mouth to respond, her room telephone exploded into a loud, old-fashioned ring, like a bell-and-hammer alarm clock built for a god. Sergey hadn't had the sense to install modern phones yet, or maybe he just liked to watch people suffer from heart attacks at the push of a button.

She reached over and picked up the handset. "...uhh, Room 12, Rossybelle speaking?"

"Need you to get in here and bounce," came Sergey's no-nonsense command over the other end.

Rossy blinked. "...bounce…?...you mean like…".

"Your job. Now." He hung up, just like that.

She pulled the phone from her ear to stare at it in her hand for a moment, raised an eyebrow, then casually dropped the handset to the ground, letting it dangle freely on its own coiled bungee cable. Then she stood up, snatched her wine-red fedora off the table, and strode purposefully toward the door.

_ HAVE A G00D DAY AT W0RK, R0SIE. _

"Fuck off," she replied, closing the chat window and stepping outside into the cold, dark morning of another wintry day in Barrinten.

She'd only just arrived here two days ago, on a morning just like this one. The ad had been very specific, it said the job was for someone "strong, silent, and intimidating, in that exact order", and went on to mention several other mildly concerning points; "criminal history will not be taken as a limiting factor for employment", for example.

The interview had been even stranger. Sergey had looked her up and down once, then asked her why she wanted the job. She thought of every "correct" response she'd ever rehearsed back when interviews used to mean something to her, hoping she would remember what prospective employers wanted to hear as an answer to questions like that one...and yet, when she opened her mouth, all that came out was "I need money."

And all that had come out of Sergey's mouth in response was "...then do the job and I'll give you money for doing it."

Then he handed her a key to Room 12, told her it was hers, and that she was allowed to stay there as long as she was employed. And so it was that twenty minutes after stepping off the Regional 515 bus, Rossy had tossed the single duffel bag containing the entirety of her broken life onto the empty bed of the Silver Key Motel and Erotic Boutique, ready to try again and make some money for the mysterious people who had erased her past…

_...it IS pretty fucked up when you think about it, isn't it? Guess that's why I try not to think about it very much… _

It couldn't have been more than just a notch above freezing outside, the kind of late-fall weather that leather jacket designers and synthetic fur coat factories had been waiting all year for, but Rossy's outfit for this morning included none of these. Why bother weighing yourself down with a heavy jacket when you have an inorganic layer of not-skin incapable of getting frostbite or going numb or even having tiny little hairs that stand up awkwardly to ruin your preconceived notions of perfect skin?

Besides, Rossy thought she looked pretty badass in her solid black sleeveless muscle shirt. People didn't seem to take her seriously when she dressed the way she wanted to, in wildly colorful eccentric patterns and grossly outdated garment styles, but a simple shirt with a simple message - designed to make it clear what kind of heat she was packing - might help drive home the point.

_...is that really a wise idea, though? _ she had to wonder.  _ I mean, just how much attention should I really be drawing to myself, anyway? It's nice to think some dipshit might get a load of this gun show and think twice about jackin' off in his chair, but...I'm already about 180cm tall and built like a brick house. All it's gonna take is one wrong look from one wrong dipshit, seeing a pair of arms just a little too big for a normal Organic woman, and my cover's as good as blown...why the hell did I think this was a good idea again?! _

She tried not to think about the image of Millie giving her a nod of approval that her mind had just visualized for her.

_ Just keep your head down and make money like you're supposed to. Keep the voices in your head happy. Stay focused and don't fuck it up just cause you saw a hot girl. _

She strode purposefully across the parking lot toward the main entrance stairs. She had to walk with purpose in mind in order for her legs to work, because that's what her legs responded to, mechanically speaking. Powerful prosthetic legs like these were activated by thought - which, contrary to old-fashioned science fiction beliefs, is not a remote radio signal emitted by the brain that can be "intercepted" by telepathic aliens, but, in fact, a local bioelectrical blip sent from a very specific location in the brain down a very specific path of nerves that run to each of the appendicular muscles required to lift a foot, stretch it forward, and balance on it while the doing the same with the opposite side, all spanning the course of less than a second at a time - and her legs in particular were meticulously tuned to that particular bioelectrical signal. In short, she had to THINK about moving her leg muscles in order for them to move. Her walk had to be intentional. She needed to do it with purpose.

Now she just needed to work on making it look natural. Rossy was built for power and stability, not grace and elegance.  _ Leave that to the strippers, am I right? _

Speak of the devil, as soon as she walked through the front door, a stern and unimpressed Sergey pointed her toward the far room behind the stage, where lo and behold, an ogle of strippers had gathered to argue their right to use the room for each their own routine practice.

"Break them up," Sergey instructed, as if he were too old for that shit.

She gave him a funny look. "...you want me to bounce my own coworkers?"

"Security Support Specialist," he replied, dryly. "Go support my security, and be special about it."

She snorted and almost rolled her eyes - but didn't, because cybernetic hardware is very sensitive to movement, and some natural Organic body language simply does not translate to Cyborg hardware without disastrous results - and marched her way backstage to break up the heated argument.

There were four of them. Well, there were three of them, all dressed up for showtime and engaged in heated discussion, and then there was Millie, wrapped in a bathrobe and leaned against the wall with her arms crossed, snickering to herself.

"You've been using the room every morning this week," said an older woman with hair an unnatural shade of auburn, tasselled on the ends with slivers of bright yellow. "You're not the only one who needs to practice, okay? Do you even know what kind of hoops I had to jump through to get here this morning?"

"I know, I know, but just let me have it one more day!" pleaded a spritely young college student wearing roughly half of a complete outfit made of silk and lace. "I just put the finishing touches on the whole routine, and I just need to run through it a few times! You can have it for the whole rest of the day if you want, just let me get the new changes nailed down real quick!"

"You'll have plenty of time to practice later!" the woman groaned. "Hell, you have all the time in the world! I'm not 18 anymore, I don't HAVE luxuries like that!"

"Well you sure have OTHER luxuries," the young one sneered, gesturing heartward.

She received a sharp glare in reply.

"C'mon ladies, at least TRY to be professional around here," said the third dancer, whom Rossy was surprised she hadn't noticed yet, given the rarity in which his gender worked with tight black corsets and striped thigh stockings. "And please, have a little empathy for those of us who actually NEED the room today."

"Oh shut your mouth, Omar," Mature Redhead snapped back at him, running a thumb beneath the strap of her bra for adjustment. "Like you're the shining bastion of maturity around here."

Omar pouted and crossed his arms. "At least I don't bring my personal bullshit into my work bullshit."

"You don't even HAVE any personal bullshit," Barely Legal said with a scoff. "It's not like you have a life outside of work."

"I resent that!" Omar shouted, his voice cracking just a bit. "I don't need a LIFE outside of work because my work IS my life! I'm literally working at my dream job! Can YOU say the same, Miss Student Loans?"

"Oh, fuck off," she spit back, placing her hands on her narrow hips. "What happened to not bringing personal bullshit into work bullshit?"

"Irina, didn't you say you were just looking for an easy way through college or something?" Mature Redhead cut in, also placing her hands on her much wider hips. "If all you're doin' is looking for a shortcut, then you can wait another goddamn hour for me to get some time in while I still can! Do you even know how many sitters I had to go through just to get this time off this morning?"

"Again, personal bullshit versus work bullshit," young Irina replied, shaking her head. "Hypocrites."

"Okay, listen," Omar continued, reasonably. "Fatimah has a good point, but hear me out. This is REAL work bullshit, okay? Now, remember a couple of days ago, one of my best dresses got torn up pretty badly?"

They both nodded. Irina even smirked, as if it were hilarious.

"Well, I'm booked again for tonight," he continued, taking a breath as his hand gestures became more pronounced, "...and when I called my tailor, he told me the dress wouldn't be ready for another two days! So now I'm on schedule for tonight and I won't be able to do my best routine, so I need to practice another with a different outfit so I don't make a complete and utter fool of myself tonight!"

The Mature Readhead - Fatimah, apparently - couldn't help but snicker and mutter under her breath, "...like you don't already make a fool of yourself every night." Only Rossy, imbued with audio equalization software on her cybernetic ears, heard her.

"But why do you need a whole day to practice?" Irina pressed, determined to somehow get her way. "Can't you just improvise tonight?"

Omar's eyes went wide and his nose flared indignantly. "Improvise?! You know me, I'm very meticulous about how I conduct my routines! I can't just make something up! It's too risky!"

"Oh, just suck it up already," Fatimah insisted, flicking him hard on the arm. "We're wasting time arguing here, so just let me have what's left of this morning, then you idiots can fight over it for the rest of the day."

"But I was here FIRST!" Irina moaned, pulling a fold of silky material out from a hungry crevice.

And so the argument continued to circulate. Rossy sighed and shook her head, taking a step toward them to intervene when she caught the eye of the silent fourth dancer along the wall. Millie flashed her a smile - and not anything else - and motioned with her head for her to join. She hesitated, but it really wasn't a hard decision, was it?

"Morning, welcome to the party," Millie said, still grinning as Rossy made her way over. "Trust me, you'll want to stick around. This part's even better than the actual stage show."

"Are they always like this?" Rossy asked, watching various body parts bounce as the three became more and more animated.

"Every single day," Millie nodded. "Forget her kids, we're gonna need a sitter for THEM instead."

Rossy tried to hold back a giggle. "Why's she here anyway, isn't she a little old to be a stripper?"

"She still makes good money," came the reply. "She knows how to get good tips, she knows what men like. Very experienced for somebody with two kids. I think she probably had a job like this a long time ago or something."

"Two kids? Wow, that's gotta be rough...can you imagine Career Day at school for them?"

Minnie chuckled. "Speaking of school, I think Irina here just turned eighteen a couple of weeks ago maybe. Now there's a girl with an itchy trigger finger, let me tell you."

"Maybe she's just trying to pay her way through college," Rossy suggested with a shrug. "I remember several friends who at least considered doing it that way."

"Not you though?" Millie poked with a lopsided grin, taking a moment to acknowledge the powerful - but technically not muscular - arms emerging from Rossy's cool sleeveless black shirt. "No, of course, you were more interested in becoming a security guard, weren't you...".

"Not funny."  _...well okay, it's a little funny. But only 'cause you noticed the gun show I've provided just for you and 'cause you look so frigging cute in that bathrobe... _

Millie gave her a half-hearted nod of acknowledgement, then gestured to Omar. "Okay then. Now, how about your take on our resident hunk of man-candy with the fantastic abs and luscious cherry lips?"

_ Oh shit, here we go… _ "He's, uh,...very passionate? I mean, I'm kinda shocked to see a male stripper on the roster here."

"We serve a lot of types here," Millie shrugged, pulling her pushing her bedhead hair back into a more manageable state. "I think the variety gives us an edge over the other strip clubs."

Rossy blinked, trying not to notice the loosening drawstring on Millie's robe. "...there are other strip clubs in town?"

"Ha, good one." She jammed a couple of bobby pins into place to keep her messy hair in check and resumed her lean. "You'd be surprised what kind of pilgrimages people will make all the way out to this tiny-ass town just to get a good peep show. May as well be ready to offer whatever kind of show they could ever want to peep, eh?"

Rossy looked back up at Omar, who was presently holding up some kind of sequined underwear as he gave a dramatic speech about how important "presentation" was to his routine. Then she turned back to Millie. "Sure, I guess, but...I don't think I saw any ladies in the audience last night?"

The knowing smile she got in return could have pinned her against the wall, robot limbs and all. "...we serve a LOT of types here."

_...well, fuck me. _

She felt her augmented heart liquefy inside her, once again eternally grateful she had no blood inside her body with which to color her face as red as it felt. The sun had risen from behind the clouds. Rays of hope penetrated the thick rolling banks of fear. If the Silver Key Motel and Erotic Boutique wasn't afraid to serve types like that, then maybe...just maybe...it was safe to assume these people also weren't afraid of types like her.

Just as a few years ago it was hard to get a job if you bore visible tattoos, or styled your hair a certain way, or asked people to call you "sir" whenever they called you "ma'am", so too was being a Cyborg considered a barrier to employment. Many people - usually older folks, or people committed to "the old way", as it were - saw cybernetics not as enhancements for the disabled, but as an unfair advantage against the typical Organic human. If you had, say, a high-quality prosthetic arm installed after losing one to a severe injury or a birth defect, you were now suddenly seen as MORE capable than any able-bodied Organic. You were no longer "disabled", you were "empowered". But because your doctor still officially wrote "disabled" on your bill of health, you were given access to all those special government programs designed to help re-integrate you into the workforce.

Affirmative Action, they called it. All registered employers were audited by the law every few years to ensure they were employing a certain percentage of underprivileged working class folks - disabled, veterans, and all who had historically suffered an unfair Wage Gap based on their gender or race or religion. Being a Disabled Cyborg was considered an "easy in" among people like them…

_ But if they ever bothered to ask anyone with a prosthetic arm how easy it was to pay for it...let alone an entirely prosthetic BODY… _

Rossy took a deep breath. Metaphorically, anyway.

_...the POINT is...if someone like Omar here can put on bright flashy panties and dance a striptease for people in the audience who aren't ladies...then I can probably at least rest easy knowing I probably won't get fired for not being into men. And, more importantly, maybe I also don't have to worry about getting fired for not being one hundred percent organic human beef. _

_...heh. _

"So when ARE you gonna stop treating me like just the new girl, then?!" Irina's shrill whine brought her back into the moment.

"I'll treat you like an adult when you start ACTING like one!" Fatimah shouted back.

Millie chuckled to herself and shook her head. "I could watch this for days, but if Sergey sent you to break them up, you'd probably better get to it."

"Yeah, you're probably right…" Rossy sighed, deciding to get on with it before that drawstring got any looser and made the conversation awkward.

_...why am I worried about that, though? She's a stripper, I'm sure I'll be seeing her boobies soon enough anyway… _

"Alright, alright, everybody shut up for a second!" she announced, pushing her way into the center of the argument as she prepared to show off her negotiation skills in front of the pretty girl whom she was suddenly feeling compelled to impress.

"...who the fuck are you supposed to be?" Irina asked, giving her a critical once-over.

"I'm the bouncer," Rossy replied, levelly. "And I'm here to get this bullshit sorted out."

Irina raised an eyebrow, staring at the feather in Rossy's blood-red hat. Then she gave a condescending snort. "Like hell you are."

Rossy frowned, then turned to see Fatimah shaking her head as well. "You don't even LOOK like a bouncer. You look more like one of us, except with clothes on."

Even Omar was unimpressed. "Who let you in here, anyway? Millie, is this bullshit your doing?"

Millie just shrugged and smiled.

Not one to let the moment be ruined by such a pack of uncooperative children, Rossy puffed up her chest and stood up as tall as she could mechanically make herself. "Look, I just told you, I'm the bouncer. The "security support specialist". And I'm putting an end to this argument right now."

Before any of them could protest, Rossy pointed stiffly to Fatimah. "You. Take the practice room for the rest of the morning, however long you've got before your sitter has to go home."

Then she turned to Omar, who jumped slightly when she spoke. "You. The moment Fatimah's done, you get the room to polish up your routine so it's fresh in your mind before you go on tonight."

"And you," she continued, now facing Irina, "...you need to learn that the world doesn't revolve around yourself and your needs, and that sometimes you just have to make room for others when they need it. You'll get your turn, just not today. Try again tomorrow."

And with that, she tugged the brim of her hat into place, crossed her arms, and stood like a sentinel, imposing and erect. "Any questions?"

A stunned silence hovered between the three of them. Rossy wanted so badly to see if Millie, too, was stunned, but she didn't want to break eye contact with the others just yet. A former lifetime of being an Organic had taught her the finer points of imposing body language, and despite the fact that none of it made any sense from a mechanical standpoint, cybernetics were still made to mimic that same Organic body language, nicely underscoring Rossy's posture now.

Finally, Fatimah became the first one to reanimate. She gave Rossy a slanted look, then smiled and nodded. "...I don't know who this weirdo is, but I think I like her. Thanks for siding with justice, hon."

And with that, she patted Rossy on the shoulder - mildly surprised at how tough and solid it felt - and proceeded to the back of the room to plug her mp3 player into the speakers. Then, giving the others a wink and a sly smile, she took a deep breath, pulled a few straps and bands to free her underwear from various bodily valleys, and pressed play.

Irina turned to Rossy with a sour look. "Seriously, who the hell are you? And who let you back here? This is a private area, you know."

"I work here," came the reply, cool as the winter sunrise just outside the door.

Irina smacked her lips impatiently. "You don't LOOK like you work here."

"Tell that to Sergey."

"Oh," Omar finally put in, softening up. "Well, why didn't you just say it was Sergey in the first place? A pleasure to meet you, new bouncer! My name is Omar, and I welcome the opportunity to dance for your amusement!"

Rossy shook his hand firmly - as if she had any other way of shaking someone's hand - and smiled awkwardly. "Rossybelle. And, uh...great? Can't wait to see you on stage."

He seemed very pleased with this, if his smile was any indication.

And finally, Rossy turned to Irina, who was still pouting, but with a begrudging air of assent. She held a hand out half-heartedly, keeping the other one over her chest, as if she were suddenly very embarrassed of her job. "Irina," she mumbled, not looking Rossy in the eye.

Rossy nodded and returned the favor, more firmly than she meant, but more firmly than she could control nonetheless.

And thus, having quelled the backstage rebellion with her incredibly level-headed brand of cool intensity, Rossy glanced casually back over at Millie over her shoulder, eager to see her reaction. Millie was leaned against the wall with an approving half-smile on her face and an approving thumb raised in salute.

_ Mission accomplished _ , she smiled to herself, dreaming the rest of the day that her mechanical body was floating on a pink, puffy cloud.


	4. The Respected Art of Putting On Pants

 

Rossybelle stared uncomfortably at the plastic bag on the end of the bed, unsure if what she was currently feeling was the exciting tingle of guilty pleasure or the imminent gloom of buyer's remorse.

 _I shouldn't have done it,_ she scolded herself, shaking her head slowly. _I shouldn't have bought it. I know he's gonna say something...I just KNOW he's gonna say something. Any second now, that little red light is gonna pop up and he's gonna sit there and judge me, just like he always does…_

The tension was already fraying her nerves...or maybe it was fraying her wires? Either phrase was probably applicable in her case. Cybernetic body parts that relied on signals from the brain generally weren't equipped to filter out illogical signals like anxiety. It was just another fine example that Robots weren't built to house emotions…

...but then again, she wasn't a Robot, was she? No, she was a Cyborg. A free-willed individual person of her own programming, free from various physical limitations unlike most other Organics. In fact, her brain was one of the only parts of her body that WAS still wholly organic, which unfortunately meant it still operated in Organic circles, and all the irrational frustrations and shortcomings that came with the territory. Her mechanical toes wiggled illogically out of nervous habit.

Sometimes she almost wished she WERE a Robot. From their very moment of conception, Robots already had their whole futures laid out before them. They had destinies written into their brains from above. They knew exactly what they were supposed to accomplish with their lives, and were given bodies designed to do exactly that. They were built for the explicit purpose of achieving their goals. Created to fulfill whatever destiny they needed to. To be a Robot was to be guaranteed a future. But to be a Cyborg...

 _...no, that's wrong, isn't it._ Her brain stopped processing what her eyes were showing her for a moment, so she could properly think. _It's not that I don't have a future. It's just that I have to MAKE MY OWN future. Yeah. They built me like a Robot, but they didn't build me a purpose. I have to set my own goals, just like any other Organic. I'm just better equipped to handle...well, certain things, I guess._

She sat up straight and bit her synthetic lip warily. _And I WOULD make my own future if I didn't have all these goddamn circumstances always popping up in my way. It's still easier to be a Robot. Someone tells you what to do and you get to do it. And if a circumstance pops up that prevents you from doing your job, your creator fixes you up so that you can handle it next time._

_But me? I'm a Cyborg. I don't have a master. And that means I have to provide MY OWN money. I have to fix MY OWN circumstances. I'm my own woman. I'm free…_

She felt the inside of her skull heat up with a simulated anger.

_...except I'm not._

As if on cue, the red light appeared on the edge of her vision and began to pulse. Seeing it only intensified the hot feeling of anger. In her brain, she remembered what fire smelled like.

And as if to spite her, the chat window popped up automatically.

_QUESTI0N F0R Y0U, R0SIE._

She inhaled sharply as she read the words, then took a long, calming moment to exhale it back out slowly. _Maybe if I just don't respond…_

_D0N'T IGN0RE ME, I KN0W Y0U'RE READING THIS RIGHT N0W._

_...dammit._

She sighed. "What the fuck do you want now?"

The pause between speech-to-text and the typed response continued to be the most aggravating test of patience Rossybelle had ever endured.

_JUST CHECKING IN 0N 0UR FAV0RITE HUMAN R0B0T. WANTED T0 SEE H0W Y0U'RE H0LDING UP T0DAY._

"Spare me the bullshit," she spit back, crossing her arms. "You know I hate talking to you."

Again, the pause.

_FAIR EN0UGH, I SUPP0SE. I'LL GET T0 MY QUESTI0N THEN. WHAT'S IN THE BAG?_

_...shit._

"It's just a...present," she said, hesitantly shooting the plastic bag another glance. "A gift from me to me."

Pause.

  1. _DECIDED TO GET 0UT AND TREAT Y0URSELF F0R Y0UR 0NE WEEK ANNIVERSARY 0F N0T FUCKING UP Y0UR NEW J0B, HUH? S0UNDS FUN._



She had to convince herself the words weren't coming from the bag itself as it seemed to stare back at her with an inanimate smirk. "What do you care? You can't tell me how to spend my money."

Pause.

_N0, I'M PRETTY SURE I CAN. Y0U 0WE US QUITE A HEFTY SUM 0F M0NEY, R0SIE. THE 0NLY REAS0N I'M HERE IN Y0UR HEAD IN THE FIRST PLACE IS T0 MAKE SURE Y0U PAY IT ALL BACK._

"I AM paying it back," she replied, crossing her arms. "So I went and bought something nice for myself, big deal. It wasn't THAT expensive...".

Pause.

_...I GUESS AS L0NG AS Y0U'RE MEETING THE MINIMUM EVERY M0NTH, I CAN'T ST0P Y0U._

She huffed loudly. "What, you think I don't know math or something? I know my budget, I can afford this. Just let me have this for myself."

Pause.

_BUDGET, HUH? WELL, I GUESS ANYB0DY'D BE G00D AT BUDGETING AFTER A YEAR 0F IT._

"Exactly. So fuck off."

Pause.

_I'M JUST C0NCERNED AB0UT Y0U, R0SIE. THAT'S ALL._

_Like hell you are,_ she thought. Then she said so.

Pause.

_AWW, C'M0N N0W. Y0U KN0W WE HAVE N0THING BUT Y0UR BEST INTERESTS AT HEART, D0N'T WE? WE WANT T0 SEE Y0U SECURE AND SUCCESSFUL._

"No, you just don't TRUST me."

Pause.

_...N0, I THINK IT'S M0RE LIKE...A GUARANTEED RETURN 0N INVESTMENT._

Rossy barked out a laugh. "Oh, I'm an investment now? You spent millions of dollars building me a body just to get a few hundred back every month? Sounds like a pretty shitty investment to me."

Pause.

A longer pause than usual.

Part of her dared to hope that poking the bear hard enough would force him to lash out and give her a solid response, a REAL response, to the deeper mysteries she'd been trying to unravel for the past year. Pissing him off hard enough might get him to slip a clue. Maybe...

The message finally popped up.

_Y'KN0W WHAT, THAT'S N0T F0R ME T0 ANSWER._

_...well, fuck._

_MY P0INT, DEAR R0SIE, IS THAT WE MAKE SURE Y0U'VE STILL G0T EN0UGH AFTER Y0UR MINIMUM T0 ALL0W F0R A FEW ESSENTIALS. Y0U'RE A BIG GIRL, I'M SURE Y0U REALIZE H0W IMP0RTANT IT IS T0 BUDGET F0R Y0UR 0WN ESSENTIALS EVERY M0NTH._

_...he's dodging the question,_ she admitted grimly. _Dammit. Guess it's gonna take something bigger than a little petty anger to catch him off guard. But what the fuck is he talking about anyway? He wouldn't just call me up to make sure I'm budgeting my allowance correctly...would he?_

Again her eyes wandered over toward the bag, ever silently smirking back at her like a dirty little secret that everyone already knew.

_C'M0N, R0SIE. WE B0TH KN0W THAT WHAT Y0U JUST B0UGHT CAN'T EVEN HARDLY BE CALLED ESSENTIAL, N0W CAN IT?_

"Oh, what's it to you, anyway?" she spit back, hoping her operating system could interpret not only speech but also tone, and maybe make her words show up in bold, or italics, or at least all in creepy capitals like his. "I got my essentials covered. I got a room, I got a job, and nobody around here has a clue who I am. Or what I am. Why are you getting so far up my ass about this?"

Another long pause.

_...Y0U'RE STILL F0RGETTING 0NE VERY IMP0RTANT ESSENTIAL._

She raised an eyebrow. "Which one?"

_DID Y0U REMEMBER T0 BUY F00D?_

It was Rossy's turn to pause. "...food? I don't EAT...".

 _Y0U KN0W WHAT I MEAN._ _THAT BATTERY ISN'T G0ING T0 CHARGE ITSELF._

_...oh. That._

She may have hated to admit it, but he had a point. Her battery supply was definitely running lower than she usually let it get... _but COME ON. I've EARNED this. I can stretch my "food" this month if it means I can have at least this one little nice thing for myself in this god-forsaken life I'm being forced to live..._

"This battery thing really sucks," she scoffed. "Why couldn't you have set me up with a power cord or something?"

Angry pause.

_Y0U PR0BABLY W0ULD HAVE L00KED VERY SILLY WITH A P0WER C0RD STICKING 0UT 0F Y0UR ASS, W0ULDN'T Y0U?_

_What "ass"?_ she grumbled to herself. _Robots don't HAVE asses..._

_WE D0N'T WANT Y0U T0 L00K SILLY, R0SIE. WE WANT Y0U T0 L00K JUST LIKE ANYB0DY ELSE. THE D0CT0R WANTS Y0U T0 L00K HUMAN._

The words hovered in front of her and swam around in her mind as she cast her eyes down to the floor.

_The Doctor…_

In the year since she'd been made a Cyborg, she still had yet to meet the Doctor who'd done it to her. Maybe "Doctor" wasn't even the right word. Maybe they were more like a...technician? A cyber-surgeon. A mysterious entity who bridged the gap between organic medicinal science and cybernetic digital science, an apparently brilliant genius who reconstructed over ninety percent of a paraplegic organic body out of cybernetics and prosthetics, a master artist who made new Cyborgs out of disabled Organics, then resculpted them to look like pristine, "normal" Organics again...

_...an asshole who cheated me out of death and gave me a second chance at life..._

She snorted; a loud, mechanical cough.

_...and a second chance with an eight-figure medical bill and nothing but an empty slate to help me get it paid off, at that. What a fucking joke._

Rossy stewed another few moments in resentful silence, neither party saying anything. She didn't even know who these messages were coming from, truthfully. Based on what he seemed to know about her and the things he told her to do, she had to assume he was in some way connected to the ever-mysterious Doctor. Maybe his aide, or secretary or something. And, she assumed from the tone of his messages, was probably a man.

_...maybe it's not a man, though. I don't know what this person sounds like, I only know the voice I use in my head to read the messages, and it always sounds like a raspy male voice, like a distant creepy breather on a telephone line. But how would I ever know?_

Then finally, another message appeared and dissolved her thoughts.

_L00K, I THINK I GET IT. MAYBE Y0U NEEDED THIS. MAYBE Y0U JUST WANTED T0 D0 S0METHING F0R Y0U, Y0U KN0W? GIVE Y0URSELF S0ME REASSURANCE THAT Y0U'RE D0ING ALRIGHT. THAT Y0U'LL MAKE IT THR0UGH WHATEVER BULLSHIT'S BEEN EATING Y0U. S0 Y0U G0T Y0URSELF A LITTLE S0METHING NICE. S0METHING Y0U KN0W Y0U'LL LIKE. S0METHING THAT D0ESN'T JUST MAKE Y0U L00K HUMAN, BUT MAYBE EVEN FEEL HUMAN T00. I THINK I CAN UNDERSTAND THAT._

This time the pause felt like a soft breeze, venting the excess heat out of Rossy's ear holes. She blinked, deliberately, and took another glance over at the bag, still sitting right where she'd left it. Then she reread the message on the screen. Then she blinked, deliberately, again.

_...is this real right now? Did I read that right? Are my eyes broken? Did the condescending text message ghost in my head just...try to console me?_

The pause continued just a bit longer.

_BUT NEXT TIME Y0U NEED A HUMAN PICK-ME-UP, MAYBE D0N'T G0 L00KING F0R IT AT A PLACE CALLED "FLASHFIRE LINGERIE"._

Cognizant reality settled back in. _Oh yeah...oops..._

_YEAH, THAT'S RIGHT. I GET T0 SEE ALL 0F Y0UR TRANSACTI0N HIST0RY. I'M THE 0NE M0NIT0RING Y0UR BANK ACC0UNT T00, REMEMBER?_

In lieu of her robotic inability to blush, Rossy's facial muscles all pulled inward, giving her a flat frown from top to bottom. "...oh, shut up."

An awkward pause.

_...WHY LINGERIE, TH0UGH? I MEAN, Y0U D0N'T EVEN WEAR UNDERWEAR._

Pause.

_...0R WAIT, D0 Y0U?_

Pause.

_NEVER MIND, D0N'T ANSWER THAT._

"Wasn't gonna anyway."

An even longer, even more awkward pause.

_...I MEAN, Y0U D0N'T EVEN HAVE ANYTHING D0WN THERE T0 C0VER UP, IF Y0U THINK AB0UT IT._

"We're done talking about this. And don't remind me."

 _Hmph,_ she hmphed, crossing her arms again. If there was one thing that confused her almost more than anything else about the new body she'd been given, it was why the Doctor had only gone halfway with it. Sure, she'd been equipped with advanced sensitivity eye-tracking hardware, an adjustable audio dampening system for muffling external noise, and fine-tuned cybernetic synapses capable of flexing each individual finger on either hand at the mere spark of a thought...and yet for all that, the Doctor wasn't imaginative enough to cover her body in anything more than smooth, supple, flawless silicone skin.

_...at least it's the right color, I guess..._

No matter how she sliced it, the text message voice in her head was right. She may have been shaped like a human, but so were Barbie dolls. Silhouetted she resembled any other Organic woman, but if the Doctor was going so far as to build a robot with with tits, he may as well have gone the extra mile and added the culturally offensive parts as well.

Okay, so Rossy didn't technically have breasts. Not even prosthetic ones - surprising or not, there were companies who sold functional prosthetic breasts, usually for mothers with children. But all the Doctor had given her was a vague curvature in the outer chassis covering her chest, merely offering the suggestion of a modest bust.

It shouldn't have bothered her, really, but, well...growing up Organic does give a person a certain intimate attachment to their body. To run her fingers over her skin now, expecting a bump, a nub, a crease, a slit, or at least even a goddamn hair, only to feel nothing but a stretch of pixel perfect not-skin...it made her feel almost...incomplete. Like a new car without any paint. Like the canvas of an uninspired artist.

_"Anatomically correct", my nonexistent ass…_

...and yet...something his choice of words lingered in the ether. That is to say, she could still see them written in the chat window in front of her face, but they lingered in her organic brain as well. " _Something to make you feel human"...why? Because I'm NOT human?_

She shifted uncomfortably.

_...I mean, I really am NOT human. Not socially speaking, anyway. I don't eat like humans do. I don't smell like humans do. I don't take showers like humans do._

_...but I LOOK human. And apparently that was very important to the Doctor._

Another bubble of rage popped inside her. Metaphorically, that is.

_Not that the asshole ever asked me what I wanted. I needed a new body and he provided me with one. A body HE designed. A body HE put together. He may have saved my life in a way no other Doctor could, but it wasn't out of the kindness of his heart. All he ever saw in me was a brain for his scientific experiment..._

Ugly memories and unsavory thoughts rose up once again inside her, like bile from a stomach she no longer possessed. She forced it back down, subconsciously trying to swallow with a throat that didn't work that way anymore. With a deep, artificial breath, Rossybelle eventually resurfaced back into herself, allowing her senses to once again correctly interface with her hardware and return to processing normally.

Her eyes honed in on the bag, still poised at the edge of the bed, the Flashfire Lingerie logo winking back at her knowingly.

_...maybe this body isn't mine. Maybe this life isn't the one I had before the accident. But god dammit, that doesn't mean I can't still be Rossybelle Acosta. And if I want to wear a neon green multi-band high-rider thong under my low-cut baby blue stonewashed bellbottom jeans, then that is MY goddamn prerogative and nobody else's! Fuck 'em! I got nothin' to hide!_

Empowered, she nodded resolutely, gave her signature hat a precision perfect toss onto the lampshade beside the bed, and threw herself off the bed. Her outfit became a series of stages in her mind as she made a game plan for the impending challenge of what she was about to do next.

Getting dressed - and especially getting undressed - is a task more complicated than most Organic humans would ever realize, and is one of a very short list of tasks actually made MORE difficult with the addition of machinery. With a body designed to only move upon relayed thought-commands, a Cyborg who wanted to wear clothing had to PLAN each move of their suit-up sequence. Never in her previous life had Rossybelle ever respected the art of striptease as much as she did now.

With limbs designed for strength and speed, but joints allowing for versatile movements, Rossy had found it far too easy to pull buttons off, rip seams open, and stretch fabric to its limit if she wasn't painstakingly careful. She had to concentrate on each tiny movement of her fingers and wrists, one at a time, as she grasped the button of her jeans, slid it out of the slot, and gently pulled down the zipper below, preparing for the REALLY difficult part.

_Guess I should count my blessings and be glad the Doctor isn't an ass man, huh? No junk in the trunk to worry about here...heh._

Even without a speed bump to worry about, pulling jeans down was an art form all its own. In order to position the arms correctly, she had to lean forward at the waist, and PUSH instead of pull to slide the jeans down and around her boring, modest curve. Next she had to bend her knees ever so slightly, and push FORWARD instead of down, until she reached the knees. In her mind, SHE was the dancer now, moving in custom synchronized patterns to the music of her Cybernetic body performing an Organic task. Concentrating on her movements, acting on intuition and the flow of the moment, but with precise, mechanical exactness. Truly, stippers were under-appreciated as artists.

_...and to think they go through all of these motions on stage, and in public! Damn…_

Once she'd gotten around the curve of her knees, she relaxed for a moment, then rocked herself backward up onto the edge of the bed once more. This was the easy part.

 _All this work for a pair of screamin' green panties...is it really worth all this hassle, Rossy?_ She had to pause for a moment to make sure she'd thought that herself, and not read it in a chat window. _Not to mention the money you had to spend for these...who the hell decided underwear was allowed to be this expensive? I can buy a jacket with ten times the amount of material for less than this. Highway robbery!_

She paused, glancing down at the seamless rubber skin coating her lower body.

_...they want me to look human. They want me to act human. They're letting me do this because they think it'll make me feel human._

_...but do I want to feel human?_

She let the jeans fall to the floor.

_I'm not human. I'm a Cyborg._

She reached for the bag, even now still smirking back at her in its own inanimate way. But this time she pulled out the neon green prize inside and held it up to get a better look at it.

And she smiled.

_...no. I'm Rossybelle Acosta._

_Before I'm a Cyborg, before I was even a human...I have always been Rossybelle Acosta._

_And I bought a neon green multi-band high-rider thong that looks like it came right out of 1987 for MYSELF, to make me feel more like MYSELF._

_And for NO OTHER REASON._

And with that, Rossybelle proceeded to get dressed and ready to attack the day.


	5. Stuffing Batteries Down Your Throat

"I know what I saw," Millie insisted gravely, leaning across the table to push her face closer to Rossy's. "And you're either batshit crazy or you're trolling the hell out of me. I just want to know which one it is."

_...shit...Shit...SHIT…! _

Rossy felt her fingers twitching, panic crippling her cybernetics as her brain attempted to juggle both sheer terror and hyperthreaded problem-solving computations. "...it's...it's nothing, really…".

"You don't have to tell me everything," Millie continued, keeping her voice level and calm, but persistently curious, "...hell, you can leave me completely in the dark if you want to. All I want is just a quick yes or no answer, okay?"

"...it's just...it's not what you think it is," she managed to spit out, eyes darting back and forth as her enhanced brain failed to come up with an escape plan.

"Good, because I have no idea what the hell I DO think it is," came the reply, doused in that familiar brand of salt-and-vinegar sarcasm Millie always put to such effective use. "I just know what it looked like, and now I need to know."

Rossy's mouth opened and closed a few times as she stalled for words.

She halted completely when she felt Millie's hand close over her own. "It's okay. Just yes or no, that's all I want. Okay?"

Paralyzed, Rossy gave a small nod.

"Okay...did I or did I not just see you stuff a battery down your throat?"

The words hung in the air and seemed to all but pause time itself. Rossy kept waiting for the music to abruptly cut out and for everyone in the room to stop and stare at her expectantly, as if their conversation itself was the spectacle on center stage, and Millie had just removed its sequined top for the crowd.

_...why…?  _ she asked herself. _ How did it come to this? _

When most Organic brains think those particular words, there is a brief instant, perceptible only to those who are looking for it, where the brain rapidly processes and remembers the entire string of circumstances leading up to the moment in question, all in a fraction of a second. A cybernetically enhanced brain could potentially process the memory even faster...or, in this case, much slower, and in the back of the mind, so that such memories can be more permanently recorded and revisited for storytelling purposes…

...the night was growing late, but Rossy felt more wide awake now than she had in probably the entire past two weeks.

And it had nothing to do with charging her primary power supply - or internal battery, if you had to call it that. Cybernetics don't suddenly become charged with extra pep and vigor after a hearty meal like Organic parts. No, this heightened awareness in her mind and extra spring in her automatic step was due to the special blend of adrenaline and endorphins electrifying her brain at the realization that she was - for all intents and purposes - on a date right now.

_ Okay, tone it down, Rossy, it's technically NOT a date, _ she reminded herself, taking a superfluous deep breath.  _ But close enough, holy shit. I'm on an almost-date. Me. Right now. After everything that's happened, I'm on a fucking date! God, I feel like such a teenager right now… _

She turned her head back toward the bar to watch the slender, slanted figure of a young lady in a vibrant fuchsia cocktail dress saying something probably dry and witty to a wizened and unimpressed bartender. Even from this angle, with nothing but a keen garden of sunflower hair and the unforgettable sculpture of the body beneath it, Rossy knew for certain she was looking at the body of the fan-favorite dancer at the Silver Key Hotel and Erotic Boutique.

A dancer named Cherry Liplock.

_...or wait, was it Vanilla Chiffon? Or maybe Lacey Looselips? Shit, I should've been paying more attention…guess I might have been a little distracted, though...heh. _

She saw Sergey slip into the kitchen, shaking his head disdainfully as Millie turned around and began making her way back over to the table, drink in hand. Rossy lit up with a smile and realized Millie was in fact carrying TWO drinks, one for herself and one for -  _ no, Rossy, remember, this is NOT a date… _ \- but she wouldn't have ordered two separate drinks for herself, would she?

_...actually, knowing Millie, she just might… _

It was nearly one in the morning, and she and Sergey had just finished locking up after ushering out the midnight show crowd. Cherry Liplock or whichever name Millie was using tonight had just finished a special midnight set, and had asked Rossy to join her for a drink. And, having once again missed the big finish due to a confrontation in the men's bathroom, Rossy had gladly taken the offer, hook, line, and sinker.

_...but it wasn't a date, remember. _

_ No, of course not. What kind of date involves two co-workers meeting alone together for a drink at one in the morning under the pretense of "just gals bein' pals" when one of them is very apparently attracted to the other in a physical sense that hey nobody could possibly blame her for cause this other girl was just really goddamn pretty and she very clearly knew it, holy shit... _

It was then that Rossy came to realize that she'd been staring this whole time, mesmerized by the subtle swing of those slim hips and the little bounce of the tiny lace bow at the bottom of her low, low neckline. She snapped back to attention just as Millie gracefully set both glasses on the table, taking care to ensure the bottoms of said glasses were firmly affixed to their stems this time.

Taking her seat, Millie tugged the straps of her dress into place and slid one glass toward Rossy. "Sorry to keep you waiting. Here, have one on me."

She hesitated, knowing full well that her mouth was not intended for us as an alcoholic beverage portal, but the pre-learned social conventions of her former Organic life took over and she gratefully pulled the glass toward her, already working out in the back of her mind how she would avoid actually drinking any of it. "Aww, you shouldn't have."

Millie shrugged, a dumb smile on her face. "Okay, then I won't." And she pulled the glass right back toward her.

_...oh, so I was right after all. Well, works for me... _

"So, how have you been, Rossy?" she asked, lining up her two glasses in front of two other particularly prominent points of interest. "Seems like you're settling in pretty well."

Rossy nodded and gave a half-smile. "Yeah, it's been a pretty easy transition. This place has been good to me so far."

"So far?"

"Well, I mean like, I haven't run into any problems I couldn't handle yet," she corrected with a shrug. "It's a welcome change from my last job."

"Ahh, okay," Millie nodded back, taking a sip from one glass, then the other. "So your last job sucked, is what you're telling me."

"...ehhhhhhh," came the reply, complete with an undecided scrunchy facial expression and a release of hands. "It's more like...my last job was too full of problems that I couldn't handle."

Millie pointed a knowing finger. "It. Sucked."

"...yeah, it kinda did suck."

Smiling smugly, Minnie took another drink. "So what was this sucky job of yours, anyway?"

Rossy raised an eyebrow, once again hesitant, but unable to resist against that smile. "...it was on a freight crew for some big chain grocery store."

"Which store?"

Words held back on their way out of her mouth, eyes on a little red flag that had popped up in her mind. "...I...don't even remember the name, honestly. That's about how good of a job it was, heh…".

"Hmm," Millie replied thoughtfully, expertly taking a sip from both glasses simultaneously without spilling a drop. "So you left a job with a brand-name company and moved far away to come work for a private no-name company as hired muscle? God, that makes you sound like a shady anti-hero with a troubled past, doesn't it?"

"No it doesn't!" Rossy blurted out, halting suddenly as she restrained herself from standing up in a panic. She pulled back and lowered her voice again. "I mean...I-I'm not...I don't have anything to, like...hide or anything. I just...".

"You just…?" A slender eyebrow ticked upward expectantly.

_...she's toying with me, isn't she? She's just trying to get my goat for kicks. Dammit. _

"...I just...take my privacy very seriously, that's all..." Rossy finished lamely, placing her chin in her hand.

Millie seemed to consider this for a moment, then took another drink. "...fair enough. We don't have to talk about your checkered past if you don't want to."

She received a sharp look from Rossy.

"We can talk about something else instead," she said, gesturing with a flourish across the table, "...like your wacky sense of style, for example."

Rossy snorted. "...wacky?"

"Mmhmm," Millie nodded, as if it were a genuine compliment. "You look like a character from an 80s tribute band."

"Yeah, well…".

"I like it."

"...oh." Rossy blinked, then cracked into a shy smile, once again immeasurably grateful for her inability to blush. "...well thanks. It's, uh...I take a lot of pride in my look, you know?"

"I can tell," Millie agreed, leaning her head to one side to get the full picture. "Don't know if I'm feeling the zebra print top, but I like the visible underwear."

"Ha, you would," Rossy laughed, thrilled that Millie had noticed the neon green panties that the voice in her head had insisted were unessential. She reached down and playfully snapped the elastic against her skin. "I can't believe I found these at a place right here in town. Didn't think there'd BE any good clothing stores way out in the mountains like this."

Millie chuckled. "That's Barrinten for you. Never know what you're gonna find out here."

Then her eyes honed in on Rossy's. "...or who."

In an instant, everything locked up.

She stopped breathing. Her nonexistent heart stopped not-beating. Her eyes wouldn't move. Her thoughts stopped flowing. She may as well have died, caught in the demanding intensity and sparkling curiosity of Millie's deep green eyes.

_...god, she's beautiful. _

What felt like a hot and awkward five minutes in Cyborg time must have barely taken a millisecond in Organic time. No matter how many cores a digital processor can ever have, nor how many simultaneous threads it can track, it may never be a match for a simple bioelectric vessel that can process dozens of unique and simultaneous emotions in a fraction of a second and still rebound before the conversation becomes socially uncomfortable.

With a ghost of a shudder, Rossy came back to her senses and blinked a few times, then, remembering her manners, smiled and nodded. "Count me lucky, then. I couldn't have asked for better company."

"Wow…" Millie's brow raised and her lips curled into a smile. "Are you always this smooth when you're on a date with a pole slider?"

"You think I'm smooth now," Rossy started--

_...wait 'til you see me in your dreams tonight…? _

_ C'mon Rossy, not on the first date...er, wait, this isn't even supposed to BE a date! Get it together! _

\--"...wait until I see YOU up on that stage?" Millie finished for her, with a wink.

_...dammit. _

Rossy slumped forward and deflated with a breathy laugh. "...sure, let's go with that. Like anyone would wanna see ME up there, doin' what you do."

Millie leaned forward, taking another sip. "Why wouldn't they? You're a hottie with a body, aren't you?"

She half-smiled in response, but the other half felt like a painful reminder.  _ Well, I certainly have a BODY, that much is true… _

"Listen, I'm just kidding," Millie added, brushing it off as if it were nothing anyway. "Point is, I'm glad you found something for yourself in our sleepy little asscrack-in-the-mountains town. You stick out like a boner in business slacks, but hey, as long as YOU like how you look in your puffy zebra sleeves and your neon Tetris pattern skirt, that's all that matters, you know?"

Rossy gave her a pointed counter-stare, tongue securely poking her cheek as she tried not to giggle.

"What?" she continued with a genuine smile. "I'm just saying, nobody around here wears that kinda stuff unless they're up on the stage. Hell, even I'd probably wear it on stage. But wear it anywhere else, and it's a pretty good way for a shut-in who doesn't get out much and reads nerd fantasy books to draw attention to herself."

Rossy took a moment to log those words in the back of her mind as Millie took another long, thoughtful drink. The conversation had taken an unwelcome turn towards her own self, and she really wasn't keen on keeping it in that direction if she could help it...but something about those words seemed to bother her, in the right here and right now, in a just such way that she couldn't leave the conversation hanging without a response.

"...it's true, I don't like having eyes on me most of the time," she finally replied, carefully measuring her words. "But...sometimes I just feel like...like I'm all alone out here, you know? I mean, not HERE, in the motel or whatever, but like...out here in the world. I've been on my own for a long time now, and, well...sometimes it's nice to just remind myself that I, Rossybelle Acosta, exist. Yeah, sure, I might stand out like a boner in a...what did you say, a boner in business slacks? Heh, that's good...I might stand out, but...this way, I stand out to myself, too, y'know? It's like a reminder to myself...that I AM myself.  It's like wavin' my freak flag for everyone to see, and makin' sure that I see it too. Does that make sense?"

Millie seemed to take a moment, rolling the thought around in her head the way she'd rolled the drink around in her mouth, sampling the wine of Rossy's heartfelt truth confession or whatever it was she'd just laid bare. She nodded silently, seeming to reach a calculation in her head. Rossy felt her fingers clench up automatically, hardware responding to nervous habit without any logic to filter it out.

Millie's expression changed slightly, as if she'd come to a different answer than she'd expected.

_...come on, just say something,_ Rossy demanded in her head. _Anything._ _Don't leave me to stew in my own anxiety here..._

Her attention seemed to have wandered.

_...maybe she's already tipsy from the drinks? _

Her expression changed to something slightly more urgent.

_ Come on, just say something already! _

She held up a finger.

_ WHAT IS IT?! _

And, putting a fist against her heart, Millie let out an abrupt tiny belch, followed by a sigh of relief. "Woof...excuse me, that one was stuck way down in there."

It was Rossy turn to sigh with relief. Cyborgs don't really have breath to hold, but traditional body language may as well have been hard-coded into her operating system. "Thanks for taking that seriously."

Patting her chest in totally-not-at-all-sexual way to ensure she'd gotten it all, Millie gave her a little chuckle. "Hey, I said excuse me, what more do you want?"

Rossy snorted back.

"Alright, alright," Millie assented, hands up. "I told you, dry humor is all I know how to use anymore. It's one of the only weapons I still have."

"Oh yeah? What are the others?"

"Got a couple of bombshells armed and ready at all times," she replied automatically, gesturing to the two round warheads near the spot she'd just forced the burp out of. "People respect a well-armed artillery rack. Or at least it gets their attention."

Once again, Rossy hung her head and laughed quietly, forcing herself not to look at Millie's artillery rack. She wasn't wrong though, it had certainly commanded her respect...and her attention.

"Anyway," Millie continued, either entirely unfazed or maybe just very surreptitiously enjoying watching Rossy squirm, "...what you said makes sense."

Rossy drew herself back up to normal sitting height. "...what did I say?"

"About recognizing yourself or however you put it," she replied, more genuinely this time. "It's important to feel like you have a 'self'. There's a lot of people out there who will tell you who you're supposed to be, or who they WANT you to be...but even they can't deny who you ARE when you've very clearly made a 'self' for you to be. I don't know if that came out right, but I think I understand what YOU said, so you have to at least pretend to understand what I just said."

Rossy nodded, honestly impressed. "I do understand. Believe me, I do."

_...I don't think I've opened up to anyone like that in YEARS. Many, MANY years...since way before the...the Accident…I'm sure if I had a real Organic heart right now, it'd feel like it was on fire… _

"Well," Millie said, placing her hands on the table definitively, like a manual segue into a new subject, "...you can rest assured that your freak flag will always be welcome here. I told you before that we're all family here, and I meant it."

Rossy smiled. "That means a lot, Millie. Thank you."

"It DOES mean a lot," she agreed, nodding decisively. "It means you're welcome to wear your weird 80s clothes to work, stay up late in your room and talk to yourself out loud, and eat batteries when you think no one is looking."

The entire world skidded to a crashing stop.

Rossy's entire body felt paralyzed all over again. "...w-what?"

"Like I just said," Millie replied, almost conspiratorially now, "...we're a family now. Haven't you ever lived with a family before? That means no matter how careful we are, we're inevitably gonna walk in on each other masturbating sooner or later - or, I guess in this case, eating batteries."

Her head shook slightly from side to side as she struggled to form a response. "...I...don't know what you're...uh, talking about…".

"No, I think you do," she continued, not taking her eyes off Rossy's. "I saw you backstage the other day, and you were shoving whole double-As into your mouth like a toddler. It's okay, I'm not gonna spread any rumors or anything, I just wanna know what the hell's up with that."

Rossy's eyes darted back and forth, as if frantically searching for an Escape button to shut her down. But this wasn't a chat window, this was a real conversation, and required a real response. "I...r-really have no idea what the hell you're talking about...".

"I know what I saw," Millie insisted gravely, leaning across the table to push her face closer to Rossy's. "And you're either batshit crazy or you're trolling the hell out of me. I just want to know which one it is."

_...shit...Shit...SHIT…! How did she see me? How the FUCK did she see me?? I only had my back turned for one single minute! _

Rossy felt her fingers twitching even more erratically, panic crippling her cybernetics as her enhanced brain furiously tried to compute an easy out for this conversation. "...it's...it's nothing, really…".

"You don't have to tell me everything," Millie continued, keeping her voice level and calm, but persistently curious, "...hell, you can even leave me completely in the dark if you want to. All I want is just a quick yes or no answer, okay?"

"...it's...it's just...i-it's not what you think it is," she managed to spit out, unable to focus on Millie as she realized she was backed into a corner with no way out of this confrontation.

"Good, because I have no idea what the hell I DO think it is," came Millie's salt-and-vinegar reply. "I just know what it looked like, and now I need to know for sure."

Rossy's mouth opened and closed a few times as she continued to stall for words.

She seized up completely when she felt Millie's hand close over her own. "It's okay. How about just yes or no, then? That's all I need. Okay?"

Wholly paralyzed, Rossy gave her a small, timid nod.

_...why…?  _ she asked herself. _ How did it come to this? _

Millie took a deep breath, anchoring her calm and tender gaze with Rossy's. "Okay...did I or did I not just see you stuff a handful of batteries right down your throat?"

In any other situation, such a Mad-Lib string of words together in a sentence like that would have made her laugh out loud. It was such a ridiculous thing to consider, that such a sentence would not only pose a legitimate and applicable question, but also validate the fear currently crippling her limbs. But, seeing as Rossy lived in a world not made of normal human circumstances, the absurd question absolutely terrified her.

...and yet, for all the illogical emotions choking back her words, she found herself unable to tear away from Millie's expectant, almost hypnotic gaze. They demanded, calmly, that she speak.

So she did.

"...yes."

And then she waited.

The word had been spoken into existence, and the earth continued to rotate on its axis silently.

Millie held her gaze for another moment, then finally blinked, nodded vaguely, then raised an brow, her eyes searching Rossy for more. "...so what the fuck, then?"

Reality became real again and her brain finally returned to processing everything her eyes were displaying. She frowned back. "...it's rude to spy on people, you know."

"I wasn't doing it on purpose," Millie replied with a shrug, pulling back to her seat slowly. "Well, not intentionally, I should say. I'm just a natural people-watcher."

Rossy stared levelly back at her. "...not much of an excuse, is it?"

"You're right, it's not an excuse at all." Millie finished the contents of one of her two drinks. "You have to be sorry you did it in the first place for it to be an excuse."

Blink. "...and you're not?"

Millie cocked her head to one side. "I hope you won't take offense to that. I mean, you WERE kind of doing it in public."

"I was backstage!" Rossy wailed, then zipped her lips, somewhat mortified.

"So was I," Millie shrugged again. Then she let herself get serious again. "Listen, you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. I'm not trying to back you into a corner. I'm not trying to shrink you either. I just wanna know if you're okay."

Rossy took a moment to adjust to the coolness in her eyes, the concern in her voice. Millie always seemed to have such a sarcastic and carefree attitude about things, but there was something genuine in her tone this time. A certain caution. She meant what she was saying, and all she wanted in return was an honest answer.

_...and who am I to deny her that honesty now? She may not be TRYING to back me into a corner, but here I am backed into one just the same. There's no way I can dodge around the question anymore. She's not gonna accept anything that sounds like a lie now. Shouldn't have tried to out-dance a dancer… _

She cleared her throat, another learned behavior that served no function in her synthetic body. "...yes, Millie. I'm okay. I'm just…".

She couldn't break away from those eyes.  _ Just say it... _

"...I'm a cyborg."

And for the second time that night, the words had been spoken into existence, and the earth once again continued to rotate on its axis silently...

...until Millie broke the silence. "...so…?"

Rossy's eyes darted left, then back center. "...s-so I eat batteries. I know it sounds weird, but it's because I don't have a normal stomach…? It's like...it's kinda complicated, but--"

"--that's all?" Millie cut in, one brow strangely furrowed. "That's the big secret?"

Again, Rossy's eyes shifted left, then returned center. It was her turn to raise a brow. "...yes? I'm...I'm not normal, Millie. I'm more silicone than I am flesh and blood. I just...I didn't want to make a big deal out of it."

"Then DON'T," Millie replied plainly. Then, realizing her tone, she quickly followed up. "What I mean is...who cares if you're a robot? That's not a big deal around here."

"Cyborg, not robot," she corrected her, curtly. "And second, yeah, it kinda is a big deal depending who you ask. I was just trying to keep it under wraps, just in case."

"Well, if you're asking ME, then no, I don't think it's a big deal at all," Millie continued, rolling her neck until she heard a satisfying crack. "Honestly I would have preferred to know earlier, so I didn't have to worry you were trying to commit suicide or something by swallowing a goddamn battery."

"...actually, it was a whole pack of them," Rossy replied sheepishly.

Millie blinked, impressed. "...damn, girl."

"But more importantly," Rossy added, sharpening her tone, "...I couldn't just tell you up front. Maybe you just haven't noticed, but there's a lot of people out there who hate people like me, okay? I don't know if it's cause they're scared of me, or they just hate people who are different, but I don't just going around advertising the fact that my stomach is basically one big rechargeable battery."

"Really? How's that work?"

"...well, I mean...it's…" she stuttered, then remembered she was in the middle of a lecture, "...hey, don't change the subject. I'm trying to tell you something important here."

She saw Millie's mouth open to deliver some automatic sarcastic counter-attack, but she must have thought better of it and sat up to attention instead. "...okay. Sorry, I'm probably just a little...tipsy or something."

Rossy sighed and nodded. "I AM glad you're being so cool about this, though. Thank you for not threatening to call the police, or tattling to Sergey."

From across the room, in the kitchen, she heard a gruff voice respond: "Like I didn't already know."

_...well shit, was I THAT obvious??? _

"Nah, I don't think I've ever had to call the police in my entire life," Millie followed up, then gestured across the table. "As far as I'm concerned, around here you ARE the police."

That finally got another brief chuckle from Rossy.

"And I wasn't kidding about that 'family' thing, either," she added, pulling the strap of her dress back into place. "Look around you and tell me where we are."

Rossy did take a moment to look around. "...we're...in a bar?"

"Keep going," she said, gesturing all around. "Tell me more."

Frowning, Rossy looked for more details. "...a bar in a strip club?"

"Erotic boutique," Sergey corrected her from the kitchen.

"Whatever."

"And now look around and tell me WHO we are," Millie continued, serious again.

This time Rossy took a moment before responding. She used the opportunity to scan Millie up and down, look down at her own hands, and then back up into those deep, compelling eyes…

"We're two women," Millie explained, leaning with her elbows on the table, "...sitting together in a bar, next to a stage for adult entertainment. You're a machine, I'm a whore, the dancers are a bunch of gossipy troublemakers, our boss is an enigma who may or may not have killed a man somewhere in his mysterious, checkered past…".

Strangely, Sergey didn't respond this time.

"My point is," she finished, with a extending an upturned palm across the table, "...whatever you are, whoever you are...around here, we don't care. All of us are hated in some way, by some people. We all come together here, because in our family, there is no discrimination. We don't judge you for what you are, or what you do, or what you've done to end up here. You're here because nobody else will take you…".

She took Rossy's hand in her own.

"...so we're here to make sure someone out there will."

And for the third time that night, Rossy felt utterly paralyzed, helplessly staring into the dark green windows of Millie's soul. All she could do was break into a slow smile.

Mechanical engineers and visual artists have been at odds for centuries, forever fated to fight over form versus function. In any design that requires mechanical precision, the shape and size of something is determined first by how well it will perform its intended function, then allowed its cosmetic customizations based on whatever room is left over. This is the case for most Robots and Androids - and, by extension, Cyborgs - the form must always take second place to the function. If any function is not necessary to achieve the intended aim of the machine's creation, it is almost always left out or discarded during the design phase.

This is why Robots don't have faces, Androids don't have genitals, and why Cybernetic eyes don't produce tears.

"...this is the part where you burst into tears and hug me close as I press your head to my bosom and run my fingers through your hair and make soft shushing noises," Millie said quietly, with a wink.

Rossy fell back into herself and gave her a consigned look. "...I can't cry."

Millie tsked. "Too big and tough to shed a tear during a moment of tender intimacy?"

"No, I mean, like...my eyes are cybernetic," she explained, gesturing vaguely. "I PHYSICALLY cannot cry."

"...oh." Then she tilted her head. "Damn, even your eyes? How much of a cyborg are you, anyway?"

"The Doctor said 97%," she recalled from memory before realizing she probably shouldn't have.

"97?" she repeated incredulously. "...holy shit."

"Yeah, pretty fucked up, isn't it?"

Millie nodded and released her hand. "Huh...well maybe you can tell me more about it sometime. When you're comfortable, I mean."

Still smiling, Rossy nodded back. "...maybe I will."

_...wait, I will? I'm just gonna straight-up agree to divulge my deepest, darkest secrets to a pretty girl I just met a couple weeks ago? Just like that? _

It only took her a few seconds to decide that yeah, it was probably worth it.

_ Bet I'll be getting a message from the Voice In My Head any minute insisting otherwise, though… _

"Looking forward to it, then," said Millie, getting to her feet and pushing her chair in. "Thanks for the chat tonight."

"Pleasure's all mine," Rossy replied, joining her. "You working tomorrow night?"

"Nah, taking a couple days off to run some errands and relax." She made her way over to the other side of the table and opened her arms. "Last chance to put your head against my bosom and cry it all out."

Rossy snickered and shook her head, graciously stepping into the hug.  _ It probably doesn't even feel the same with silicone skin anyway…even this hug feels different. I mean, I can feel her body pressed against mine, and it feels like she's holding me tight against her own body...but I can't feel the warmth. I can't feel her heart beating against mine. I can't feel the cling of her fingers, the tickle of her breath, not even the press of her breasts against me. It looks like a hug...it's the same action as a hug… _

_...but it doesn't FEEL like one… _

And when Millie finally pulled herself free, Rossy felt like she had missed out on something.

"Alright, well, thanks again," Millie said pleasantly, pushing her hair behind her ear. "We'll see each other again soon enough."

Rossy did her best to smile. "We sure will. And thank you too."

Placing a hand on her shoulder as she left, Millie added. "Be good, alright?"

"...you too," Rossy replied, a half-step above somber. "Good night, Millie."

"Good night…".


	6. "Panties" Isn't A Swear Word, Ya Know

_ C'mon, Rossy, what the fuck?  _ she scolded herself, automatically shifting her weight uncomfortably. _ What's with all these sudden nervous chills and pitter-patter heart palpitations? You're not some jittery Organic, you're a Cyborg now. You're supposed to be the hardboiled, standoffish, brooding film noir hero with a tragic backstory and a cool hat. You're silicone and software, not rainbows and butterflies. _

_...well, okay, maybe you're a LITTLE BIT rainbow. Heh. _

Rossybelle the silicone-and-software cyborg sighed and looked down at the plain, puke-beige plastic shopping bag in her hands, then back up at the suddenly very imposing wooden door that led to the practice room in front of her.

_ Just do it already. You're the bouncer, you have full authority to walk right in like you own the place. You don't even need to knock. And besides, the time for sensitive and vulnerable bonding is over, now it's time to strut like a peacock and show her your gorgeous tailfeathers… _

_...er, you know what I mean. _

She breathed in deeply, taking in what could have been described as a "musty" smell by someone with functional sinuses. The normally calming gesture, even coupled with her gentle, reassuring self-speech, did little to stop the excited prickling sensation in her mostly-organic brain. Her weight shifted idly from one semi-pneumatic leg to the other, accompanied by an oddly flatulent creak from the wooden floor beneath her.

_...no, this was a terrible idea, Rossy. There's no way it's gonna work out the way you're imagining it in your head. You don't just casually drop a gift like this in a girl's lap...even if she IS a stripper by definition! This is supposed to be like...fifth date gift material! Did you even stop to think about what kind of message you're sending here?! _

Her eyes darted downward to catch up with her free hand, which must have raised up on its own accord while she was busy giving herself the business...except it couldn't have, because it only operated when her brain sent the very specific electric signal flex the particular joints required to do so. She must have had help from her subconscious...

_...nah, c'mon ya big baby, you ain't got jack shit to worry about, _ she insisted, forcing her fingers to close one by one into a firm fist.  _ A sharp girl like Minnie isn't gonna care what it looks like. She'll probably just laugh and roll with it, maybe add a little one-liner, like 'it's the thought that counts'. Right? Yeah, you know I'm right. This is gonna be nothing but a friendly gesture to her. Like a gag gift, from one lover of absurd and eclectic fashion to another… _

_...no...no, that's a fat load of shit and I know it. It's a flashy, sexy, hot-glowing-magenta g-string edged in lace and dripping with enchantment. _

She paused to make a face. _'Dripping'?_ _Ugh, not your best choice of words there...but seriously, Rossy. It's panties. You bought a girl a pair of super sexy underwear that you secretly and not-so-subtly hope she'll wear for you up on that stage. You bought skimpy pink lingerie for another girl. There is NO WAY IN HELL you're gonna be able to spin this in a way that doesn't sound super, SUPER gay._

She nibbled on her lip, in that nervous way people with lips made of flesh often do.

_...she'd totally rock 'em though. I just KNOW she'd look amazing in these... _

And with that, before she could spend another moment in hesitant trepidation, she realized her forearm was already moving forward at the behest of her impatient subconscious. It was all she could do now to watch it fly forward, as if in slow-motion, toward its target. It was too late now, she had no choice but to accept fate; there was no way now she'd even be able to even think out a stop signal to her automated joints in time to prevent her synthetic knuckles from rap-tap-tapping on the door.

From somewhere inside the room, she heard a loud sigh and the stumbling sound of someone standing up too quickly. A pause, a click, and a slight creak of the door later, Rossy saw Millie's nose poke out of the crack. "...yes?"

"H-hi, Millie," said Rossy, waving sheepishly as she tried to sneak a peek inside, wondering what she'd interrupted. "Uhh...hope I'm not interrupting anything?"

"Oh, it's you...one sec," she answered, in a tone Rossy hopefully classified as "pleasantly surprised". The door closed again, accompanied by the rustling sound of clothes, then opened all the way to reveal Millie in a hastily-equipped bathrobe. "Sorry about that. Thanks for knocking, though."

"Eh, common courtesy, you know," she replied with a sideways shrug.

"Maybe a bit less common than you think," Millie fired back with a sassy eyebrow.  _ Hot damn… _ "Anyway, what brings you?"

Rossy nodded and imagined herself taking a deep breath to puff out her chest courageously. "Two things...one, you're gonna have to wrap it up in there, Sergey says he has some big important guest coming in who's apparently booked the room for some kinda...corporate meeting or something? He didn't really say much else."

"Corporate...?" Millie's face became thoughtful for a moment, but eventually rolled into a shrug. "Eh, you know how he is about stuff like that. International man of mystery, that guy...".

"It's probably a meeting for spies trying to hack some foreign government's email server or something," Rossy agreed coolly, rolling her eyes. She momentarily forgot that doing so with cybernetic eyes was a lot more extreme on her field of vision, and needed a moment to reorient herself afterward. Fortunately, she didn't have an organic stomach to upset.

Watching her curiously for a moment, Millie's head tilted a bit to one side. "...oh my god, that was the driest joke I've ever heard you tell."

"...what?"

She nudged Rossy's arm with her elbow. "I must be rubbing off on you after all, eh?"

"...oh, right. Heh, yeah, must be…". Somewhere in the back of her mind, she discretely tucked away the thought of Millie "rubbing off on her" for a future immature chuckle.

Millie smiled, then blinked, curiosity again crossing her face. She reached out and stroked her fingers along Rossy's arm, pressing gently. "...weird, it really does feel just like normal skin, except maybe a little...firmer?"

It was Rossy's turn to blink. Her eyes followed Millie's hands as she copped a feel of tough, lightly padded, prosthetic bicep.  _ Wow...hello to you too… _

Reality settled back in suddenly as Millie paused, drawing her hand away cautiously. "...oh god, sorry. I didn't mean to just start groping you all of a sudden. Probably should have asked first…".

Rossy looked up at her, taking in her flushed expression in an instant, and before she could stop the flow of dialogue from brain to mouth, she replied evenly, "...oh, it's fine, you can grope me all you want."

_...fuck. _

The sands of time slowed down as they held each other's gaze for a hot moment, neither quite sure if the other was joking or not. Rossy watched, frozen in muted slow-motion as Millie seemed to bite the inside of her lip, expression somewhere between alarmed and excited. A face like that could only be interpreted so many ways. Perhaps she was trying to hold back a burst of laughter...or, Rossy dared to wonder, maybe she was holding back…something else...

She didn't have an instant witty comeback, but Millie's face had already started to crack into a smile.

_...holding back what, Rossy? Hmm? What's the rest of that thought you started thinking in your head? You think Millie might be trying to hold back a sudden surge of super sensual desires? Is that it? You think the sexy stripper in front of you wants to get her hands all over your hot robot bod? You think that just maybe, against all odds, this gorgeous young lady just might be both gay AND a dirty robot-fucker? Is THAT where your mind is right now?! _

She heard herself reply, faintly,  _...well, I can dream, can't I? _

Finally, the silence broke as Millie chuckled softly to herself. "Dammit, I can't think of anything to top that one! Alright, fine, you win, fair and square."

Rossy laughed too, mostly out of nervous relief. "Oh, well, uh...good, then…". She didn't add ' _ because I don't think I could have possibly recovered it after a freudian slip of that magnitude… _ ' out loud.

"Really though, I am sorry," Millie continued, taking a breath to keep her laughter in check as she sombered up a bit. "As you've probably noticed, I'm just naturally a very hands-on kind of person. And you do a job like this one long enough, sometimes you forget other people have boundaries, you know?"

Rossy nodded, still half-smiling. "I think I can understand that."

"Plus I've never felt up a cyborg before," she added, eyes gently tracing the contour of Rossy's human-not-human body. "You feel almost like a normal human does. I'm impressed, honestly. Kind of a...satisfying feeling, if that makes sense."

At this, Rossy's smile faded a bit, replaced by mild offense. "...well you don't have to say it like I'm a museum piece."

"Oh, no, I didn't mean like…" Millie paused, taking a moment to replay her words and briefly calculate. "...shit, it does kinda sound like that, doesn't it?"

"A little bit, yeah," Rossy agreed testily, hands on her hips.

With a soft sigh, Millie lowered her gaze to the floor. "...sorry. Again. I'm just…I'm not used to...y'know, people with robot arms and all that."

"Cyborg."

"...right." She took another deep sigh, rubbing her arm and leaning idly against the door frame under Rossy's scrutinous gaze. She may have been gorgeous, but she was apparently dense as well…

As a reborn sentient automaton, Rossy had had her fair share of run-ins with many other "hands-on" types over the years, and she'd developed a very protective ownership of her personal space. Copping a quick feel of silicone muscle was one thing, but to treat her body like it was something to gawk at and admire was another thing entirely. Rossy was a freak, sure, but still very much alive, and very much human, and no one knew better than her that she deserved to be respected like one.

_...then again, look at who I'm dealing with. The girl's an erotic dancer. Her entire career is built on making her own body a spectacle, and knowing how to make people gawk at and admire it. She's just doing what she knows how to do. And she DID apologize... _

_ That doesn't make it right, _ she told herself, sharply.

_...but it does mean I can forgive her if she's willing to admit it was wrong. _

"...oh yeah, what was the other thing you wanted to tell me?"

Millie's words brought Rossy back into focus. "Hm? Oh! Right!"

Straightening her spine, pushing out her flat chest as far as it would go, Rossy held out the limp and pathetic plastic bag with a beam of pride. "I got you a gift!"

At this, Millie leaned forward with a defeated chuckle. "...and now you're gonna show me up with a gift too? Well shit, now I REALLY feel like an ass."

"Oh, don't be like that," Rossy scolded, but playfully. "I just wanted to get you something, cause, well...I saw it, and I thought you might like it."

By this point, Millie seemed to have all but given up on her usual dry humor. "...you…? Are you for real right now? Oh my god, that's so...so nice!"

Still not entirely convinced she wasn't somehow in the wrong for doing so, Rossy swore she could feel the non-mechanical beat of a heart she didn't have speed up. "...what, is it really THAT uncommon for a girl to show up with a random gift for another girl?"

_...wow, very smooth, Rossy. _

"No, no, it's not that," Millie shook her head as she regained her composure. "It's just...you're the NEW girl! I should be giving YOU a housewarming gift!"

A giggle escaped before Rossy could contain it. "...well damn, when you put it like that, then yeah, I'm totally showing you up, aren't I?"

"Yep, first point goes to Rossybelle!" Millie grinned. "Now what on earth did you end up getting me?"

"Okay, so uh...I hope this isn't weird or anything," Rossy explained, palms up as Millie dug into the back to scoop out her present. "...but I figured since we were talking about fashion the other day, and you said you liked the arched waistband of the underwear I had on, and since, y'know, you're a...you have a job that is particularly dependent on flashy undergarments...maybe you might...like a pair for yourself?"

She stood stone still as Millie held up the gift to get a better look at it. To describe her feeling as 'awkward' would be to commit a massive injustice to the word. What she felt was more akin to the gripping terror of a loved one opening their Christmas gift to find a neon pink g-string with a high, arched waistband trimmed with black lace, their expression entirely unreadable all the while.

Turning it over once more to fully examine it, Millie finally replied, "...wow, you sure know how to make a statement!"

Rossy's virtual overlay nearly blue screened. "...wh-what's that supposed to mean?"

She received a hearty laugh in response. "Of all the gifts you could have given…".

Her brain felt the way it did when she used to have cheeks that could blush. "Oh...well yeah, I mean...i-if you don't like it, I can always, uh...take it back…? I mean, I could always use another pair of--"

"No, no, not like that," Millie assured her, waving it off with a genuine, heart-melting smile. "This is a great gift. Like you almost KNEW this would be the perfect gift for me."

A sigh of relief escaped out of habit, and then Rossy grinned and added, "Of course I did! I wasn't trying to make YOU feel like an ass, I was trying to make your ASS feel like an ass!"

Millie snorted, giving the underwear another glance. "...guess I'll just have to show you my appreciation by wearing them onstage tonight, eh?"

"I'll be watching for them," Rossy replied with a wink, or at least what she thought was one. Cybernetic eyes were a marvel to behold, but the model she was equipped with weren't set up to process blink commands independently, thus making all winks into blinks.

Something in Millie's half-smile as she tucked the panties into the pocket of her bathrobe suggested she might also have had other plans for them. What plans, Rossy couldn't know, but her expression was clear. It's hard to hide the joy on a face that's just gotten a brilliant idea.

"...hey, come in here for a second, okay?"

Rossy snapped to attention. "...what?"

Millie leaned her head doorward and made her way back into the practice room. "I wanna show you something."

She was sure that she could feel the thumping palpitations of an organic heart set aflutter with possibility in her chest, even though she knew it was impossible. So many thoughts immediately sprang up in her mind, even though she knew THEY were impossible as well. Whatever she was thinking Millie might show her, in private, wearing possibly nothing but a bathrobe, after being given the gift of sexy pink panties, was probably wrong.

_...but a girl can dream, right? _

Guardedly, as if steeling her resolve against the possibility of seeing something too hot for television, she trailed after Millie, closing the door discreetly behind her. She watched Millie sidle over toward a fold-up table that had been set up on one side of the room, out of the way. Standing just in front of the table atop a sleek black tripod sat an expensive-looking camera, angled slightly downward, a green light on the front of it still glowing.

_...stop thinking what you're thinking right now, Rossy… _

Her eyes wandered over to the table itself, which she now noticed was strewn with an assortment of clothes. Well…"clothes" in the sense that they were things a person wore on their body, but probably not in public. The average person would probably define these as "clothes" if they weren't quite this small. And if they involved less lace.

_ Think with your BRAIN Rossy, not your...uh...your chassis… _

She kept her lips buttoned, but Millie knew how to read an expression when she saw one. She grinned back. "I know what it looks like, but it's not what you're thinking it is."

Rossy shook her head innocently. "I don't know what it looks like at all," she lied.

That got a chuckle out of Millie, who busied her hands shutting down and packing up the camera. "Well, it's not EXACTLY what you're thinking it is, anyway."

Rossy struggled with how to answer, though her plastic face remained a perfectly blank slate. She decided to just let Millie answer for her.

"It's for a video project I'm doing," was what she got.

Rossy's brow rose slyly.

"...well shit, that still sounds like I'm doing some kind of cam show or something, doesn't it?" Millie huffed, then smiled. "Okay, fine, I get it. Can't be cool and mysterious ALL of the time…it's for my vlog."

The risen brow remained risen. "...vlog?"

"Video log," Millie clarified, as if Rossy might be unfamiliar with internet trends. "I run an anonymous vlog series on YouTube about my life as a stripper. I was just trying to get in one last recording segment so I would have time to edit tonight after the show."

Rossy nodded thoughtfully. "Huh. Well, you were right, that's not EXACTLY what I thought it was...pretty cool though, I didn't know you were into video editing stuff."

"Mmhmm," Millie said with a shrug, packing the camera into a duffel bag on the floor. "I take my clothes off for strangers to pay the bills, but it doesn't mean I've dedicated my life to it."

Rossy considered this for a moment, then quickly added, "...oh shit, I didn't mean to, uh, insinuate or anything like that…".

"Nah, it's fine," she replied, breaking down the legs of the tripod. "You'd be surprised how much people ASSUME though."

"Would I?" Rossy crossed her arms and gave her a studious stare. "I know all about how pre-judgmental people can be, remember? They take one look at me and think they know everything about me. They think I'm a hard-nosed cyber punk fresh out of their favorite 80s sci-fi movie, and that my favorite things are robotics and engineering and wondering what it's like to be human. I wouldn't be surprised at all what kind of box people would put you in before they even so much as say hello."

"Exactly," Millie said with a nod, before looking straight up into Rossy's eye. "And THAT'S why you thought sexy pink underwear would be the perfect gift for me, right?"

_...SHIT. _

She felt a twinge in the base of her spine and her "muscles" locked up as if bracing for impact. Or at least her brain remembered these feelings, formed them into electric signals, and supplied them to a set of cybernetics that weren't programmed to understand the awkward, jerky body language of someone caught in the crossfire of a verbal call-out. Put simply, her mechanical body ignored these signals, so she didn't visibly react...but in her non-mechanical brain, it felt like someone had just sucker-punched the wind out of a pair of lungs she used to have.

"...w-well, I...I, um...you know, I…" she sputtered, until she remembered who it was she was talking to here; tiptoeing your way through a conversation to save face was impossible against someone as blunt as Millie. "...okay, fair point. You got me there...but I thought you just said it was a perfect gift, too?"

Millie simply shrugged and zipped up the duffel bag. "Hey, even assumptions are correct some of the time."

She let the moment hang in the air, suspended by her own smug half-smile and the release of the weight on Rossy's shoulders. But once the moment passed, Rossy found herself still wanting more. "So what exactly DOES a stripper vlog about?"

"What do you mean 'what'?"

"I mean, like, what's to talk about, really?" Rossy asked, the creeping sensation of regret already pooling up around her words. "Is it just like, learning sexy dance moves, or like...underwear review shows, or what? Where would you even post them?"

Millie rose to her feet, hoisting the bag onto the table to pack up the as-yet-unreviewed underwear. "Again, you'd be surprised. There's an audience out there for just about anything you can imagine, if you can find them. And that includes tutorials about how to get into erotic dancing, who to talk to, where to audition, all that jazz."

"There's an audience for striptease career tutorials? Really?"

"Positive. My inbox is overflowing."

"...with dick pics?"

Millie made a face. "I'd be lying if I said there weren't any...but it's pretty easy to filter through them and focus on the bigger picture. A lot of people are just curious, mostly. Took me a while to find my audience, but I really can't believe there are that many would-be strippers are out there, wondering if the money is worth the effort."

Rossy nodded slowly, watching her with glowing eyes. "How long have you been at it?"

"Just hit a year anniversary on the blog a few weeks ago."

"I meant how long have you been taking off your clothes on stage?"

Millie paused, a pair of pearl-blue pantyhose in hand and a strange smile on her face. "...well someone sure is inquisitive tonight, aren't they?"

Hesitantly, Rossy replied, "...yes? I mean, unless I'm prying too deeply - in which case I'll back off, I promise - I'm just...I'm curious."

The smile widened just a bit. "...you sure you're not just trying to math out how old I am and whether I qualify as a cougar or a kitten?"

"...what?"

"Kidding," she said with a wave. "I'm just...surprised, I guess. I don't meet a lot of people who are as interested as you are."

_...shit, better pull back a bit. Her gaydar must be beeping like crazy right now… _

"...w-well, I...I mean, it's just...how often do you get to meet a stripper with a vlog who likes video editing, y'know?"

Millie didn't reply, but kept smiling. Something in her eyes seemed to catch the light, gleaming keenly in the soft fluorescent atmosphere of the room. Perhaps it was just a casual glare being amplified by Rossy's cybernetics, like a camera choosing to focus on the wrong object in the picture, but...there was a definite, incontestable enchantment in her expression right now.

_...or at least my gay ass sure makes it look that way. _

She felt as though more were expected of her, and followed up with, "...I'll shut up if you'd rather…".

And, as if solely to ignite the feelings she was trying so hard to keep a lid on, Millie placed a hand on her shoulder and continued to hold her gaze. "You don't need to shut up. Like I said, I don't meet a lot of people who are...you know, interested in what I do when I'm not posing for them on stage. It's a nice feeling, is all."

Still stunned by her proximity and her glowing smile, Rossy tried hard to play it cool. "...if you think that's nice, you should hang out with me more often."

Millie raised a brow, her eyes shifting ever so slightly. "...you know, I think you're right. I think we have a lot we can learn from each other, yeah?"

On the surface, Rossy smiled back, with a pleased, "Yeah." On the inside, she felt as though her processor had begun running hot enough to melt the gray matter of her brain into a mushy soup.

"Yeah," Millie agreed, giving her another pat on the shoulder before releasing her. "Couple of cool, sexy babes like us, up late swappin' secrets late in the middle of the night, slowly unraveling each other's mysterious pasts as we work and live together in the house of whores and outcasts...like a fairy tale, isn't it?"

Thoroughly charmed by the erotic dancer's wiles, Rossy could only reply, dreamily, "...my thoughts exactly."

The moment ended, but only in reality. In her own private memories, Rossy was sure to be revisiting that moment as often as her biological little brain would allow her to.

Millie, in perhaps the brightest mood she'd been in all week, packed the rest of the equipment into her duffel and hoisted it over one shoulder. "Well, these panties ain't gonna wear themselves on stage. Guess I'd better go and get ready for tonight's performance, eh?"

"Aww, already?"

"Shh," she replied, wagging a finger playfully. "We'll get together again later, I promise. I'll talk to you after I'm done exposing myself."

Rossy nodded and flashed a grin. "You've got yourself a date."

"Imagine that," Millie added, putting a finger to her chin. "I'm slipping into something more comfortable BEFORE we go out."

Rossy chuckled, then pointed to the duffel. "You sure you don't want a hand with that?"

"No worries, I've got it," she said, stepping through the door. "Or did you mean the changing part? I know you're eager to see how great my ass looks in my new underwear, but I'm gonna make you wait until I'm on stage."

"Damn," Rossy snapped her fingers. "Well, hope it's worth the wait, then."

Millie just shook her head, laughing softly. Then she paused, taking a moment to contemplate the pattern on the carpet before looking back up at her. "...and hey, thanks."

Rossy blinked. "...for what?"

"...y'know, for the gift..." she answered, meekly. That wasn't an adjective Rossy would normally associate with the young lady, but it was the right word to describe her tone nonetheless. She wasn't entirely sure how to respond, so she just smiled back and nodded.

"...and...for caring," Millie added, as if she had to force it out. Unlike Rossy, her wholly organic body was not exempt from embarrassing biological consequences, like flushed cheeks and the occasional vocal squeak. She couldn't help but keep smiling, to Millie's chagrin.

"Don't give me that look, I'm just...I'm glad to be talking with someone who's interested in ME, and not just...y'know…" she carved an hourglass figure in the air with her hands, "...ME."

To which Rossy could only nod knowingly, thinking quietly to herself... _ lucky for you, I'm interested in BOTH. _


	7. Definitely Two Valid Human Adults In This Den of Lust and Sin

"Heads up," came a voice only Rossy could hear over the groovy backbeat of what she was sure was the soundtrack to a porno she'd seen somewhere before. It was the voice of a gruff and tired bartender with an astonishing mustache, and only a pair of electronic ears finely attuned to the exact frequency of his voice could have picked it up.

"Yo," she replied, automatically placing two fingers to her temple like a secret agent in a movie pressing an earpiece against her head. She didn't need to, but it was fun to pretend like she did.

"There's a young lady up near the front, do you see her?" Sergey asked.

Her eyes swept across the crowd, searching for the offending young lady. Whatever drunken party animal, sex kitten, or anti-sex protestor she'd expected to see simply...wasn't there. In fact, she didn't see ANYBODY in particular misbehaving tonight, much less a young lady. A rarity, to be sure.

"I...don't see her?" she replied, glancing back across the floor at him.

He remained behind his bar, carefully pouring a cautious mix of beverages into a series of glasses without looking up. "Exactly. Look for someone who looks like she doesn't want to be seen here."

Rossy frowned and scanned the front row again. Amid the evening's usual patrons were men young and older, sometimes accompanied by a lady friend or a bored wife, but Sergey had specifically mentioned a "young lady", and Rossy had come to understand that Sergey never minced words. He always meant very specifically whatever he said, and would never choose to say something unless he very explicitly meant it.

_...young lady...young lady who looks like she doesn't want to be seen… _

_ AHA! _

There, up in the front row, palms pressed nervously into her seat and ears glowing red, sat a very young lady with dark skin and a long braid and a collared white polo shirt who, at least from this angle, looked as if she were trying to sink down into the earth and got stuck halfway. Hard to tell from a first glance, even with vision filters, but she looked like she'd just finished high school, gotten lost on her way to the college administration building, and was now too embarrassed to back out of what she'd gotten herself into.

"...okay, I see her, but...she's not causing any problems," Rossy reported, almost feeling sorry for her.

"Never said she was," came Sergey's reply, hard to hear even with audio amplification. "I said she looks like she doesn't want to be seen here."

"She does look that way. Hope she's not feeling intimidated by the boobies up on stage."

"Nobody's gonna feel intimidated by those tits," he replied, without so much as a drop of emotion.

_ Heh... _ he was probably right though. Up on stage at the moment was Fatimah, the resident "hot mom", as it were, and frankly, no patron ever seemed all that impressed by what she had on top. Rossy wondered if it was true that having kids caused a woman's breasts to "deflate" after they passed breastfeeding age. It was a mystery she'd have to go on wondering about for the rest of her life, since her own body was well past the point of such bizarre Organic concepts such as "childbirth" and "having breasts at all".

She took a moment to realize she still hadn't received any actual instructions from Sergey. "...so, uh, what about this girl? You want me to ID her or something?"

There was a pause before he answered. "...just keep an eye on her. Make sure she's safe."

Rossy didn't have to ask twice. "Will do."

Tasks like these were one of Rossy's favorite parts of working this job, if working as a bouncer in a strip club could be considered a favorable job in the first place. Sergey may have presented himself as an emotionless deadpan who was getting too old for this shit, but deep down he must still have come from a very honorable and human place. Rossy admired that about him.

Specifically that, too. Humanity was something she held tight to as well, because it reminded her that she was more than just a machine. Hell, she WASN'T a machine at all. She was a Cyborg. An Organic brain piloting a mechanical body. And though she was often made to feel as if those cybernetics invalidated her, that her body was not her own, or that only flesh and bone could determine a person's human-ness, she held tight to the idea that "being human" was about who you were, not what you were made of.

As she mulled the thought over in her mind, a very tall man sat one row behind the young lady in question, blocking Rossy's line of sight. She sighed and stood up, moving closer toward the stage to keep the girl in sight. Leaning against a thick support column, she stuffed her hands into the pockets of her high-waisted denim jeans, watching Fatimah seemed to be removing a similar pair of denim jeans on stage beside her, and that was when the REAL cheering began.

_...what's a girl like her doing out in a place like this, anyway? _ she wondered, now that she could plainly see the girl's perturbed expression.  _ If you don't like it, you don't have to watch, ya know…you look like you'd rather be anywhere but here. So unless you're just keeping the seat warm for someone else, why torment yourself? _

_...she's surrounded by a gaggle of guys older than she is,  _ Rossy noted, counting them down the bridge of her plastic nose.  _ Guess that's why I'm watching over her right now, isn't it? But that also means she probably isn't here with a boyfriend...so maybe she's meeting someone here later? Or hoping to MEET a guy here? That doesn't make sense at all, what self-respecting lady cruises the local strip club scene to pick up boys? _

She watched as Fatimah slowly lowered her way down and around the pole, spreading her legs wide. The girl put a hand to her glowing red face, fingers beneath her glasses to shield her eyes...but still peeking through them anyway.

_ Ahh, so that's it, then…, _ Rossy smiled.  _ Who you think you're kidding, girl? I know that look when I see it… _

Not that Fatimah was really her type, but...eh, she could see the appeal. Maybe not to a young rookie like this little one, but maybe that was just because--

She saw a red light flashing in the corner of her eye.  _ Oh, fuck off, not now… _

Begrudgingly, she pulled up the chat window, only to find no new messages. The red light persisted, quivering a bit from side to side.

Out of habit, she blinked rapidly to clear her eyes, inadvertently minimizing and maximizing the chat window a few times in the process before remembering that cybernetics don't go blind the way organic tissue does. Instead she turned her head toward the light to see Sergey pointing an old-fashioned laser pointer in her direction.

She raised an eyebrow and shrugged, mouthing the words "what the fuck" back at him.

He didn't say anything back over the pulsing beat of the stereo or the cheering of the crowd, replying instead with a short series of hand motions that she couldn't really understand. She zoomed in using her vision and sharpened the contrast filter to get a clearer image of him as he repeated the sequence.

_...down...in front…? Oh, the girl, right...then, um...me? Girl, me...come here…? Oh, he wants me to bring her over...wait, why? Eh, guess I'll find out in a sec... _

Nodding her acknowledgement, Rossy pushed herself to her feet and sidled her way up to the front row. She almost stopped in her tracks completely when she finally caught sight of the young lady's expression, and had to hold back hard to suppress a bout of laughter.

Her eyes were immovably glued to the stage, wide with alarm , but the haphazard slant of her brows and the tiny gape of her mouth lent a suggestion of horrified curiosity; the morbid uncertainty of whether she should be gouging out her eyes or recording the moment on video memory for revisiting later…

...then Rossy remembered that Organic humans can't do that. Well, not the way SHE could, anyway. The average Organic human brain doesn't record video memories in 1080p with 320kbps audio.

_...their loss, though. _

Rossy came to a stop right in front of the young lady, towering over her to block out the view as Fatimah's legs spread wide like a pair of wings behind her. The girl, a frail twig with slim stylish glasses and copper penny skin, slowly raised her eyes up to meet Rossy's.

"...am I being detained?" she asked, slowly. Almost deliberately.

"Not really," Rossy replied over the music. "Bartender asked to see you, though."

"Oh thank god."

Rossy helped pull her up and led her around the edge of the seating area toward the bar, where Sergey seemed to be making small talk with a man in a business blazer. The girl risked one final glance at the stage, and shuddered at the sight of some jiggling body part.

"What's the matter, you don't like Fatimah?" Rossy teased.

"I...don't know…?" came the reply, as uncertain as it was uncomfortable. "Never met her before in my life, so I can't really say I don't like her, but…".

Rossy chuckled, pushing a chair out of her way and side-eyeing an older man licking his lips. "I take it this is your first time in a strip joint?"

"I'm...not entirely sure how TO feel about it," the girl admitted, staring intensely at the definitely-more-interesting-than-whatever-was-happening-on-stage patterns on the dark teal carpet beneath their feet. "I've never actually seen body parts do that...like, in person."

"What, you've never accidentally walked in on your mom in the shower before?"

"Eugh! WHY!" she replied, putting her palms against her temples to hold her glasses in place as she furiously shook her head. "I'm pretty sure I was questioning my sexuality there for a moment, but just...eugh! Why would you put an image like that in my head?!"

Rossy laughed it off as she pulled up to the counter beside the man in the blazer to give her boss his due nod of acknowledgement. "Try not to think about it too much, then. You need anything else, Sergey?"

He motioned for her stand there with as few as two fingers, carefully setting a pitcher of some piss-colored concoction on the counter as the girl clambered into a seat at the bar to compose herself. Rossy shrugged and took point beside her, one stool down the bar.

A moment of silence passed between them. Well, silence from within their bubble of conversation, anyway. The music pulsing overhead carried on through its sixth chorus as usual. Sergey hadn't spoken yet, but the girl must have felt something was expected of her, so she piped up first.

"...look, if this is about my ID, I'm at least four years older than I look, I swear to--"

"Is your name Priya?"

The girl blinked. "...yes?"

"Good," he said, carefully tipping the pitcher to pour a glass of something Rossy really hoped wasn't what it looked like. "You're meeting someone here, aren't you?"

"Okay, yeah, but listen," Priya insisted, palms on the counter, "I SWEAR to whichever god you believe in that I'm not just here because I'm waiting to meet someone. I AM legitimately old enough to enter this establishment on my accord."

"Mm? Sure." His tone was too dry to discern whether sarcasm and genuine belief was being employed. Having learned in the few weeks she'd known him to always take him at face value, Rossy assumed he was being genuine.

Priya seemed less convinced. "...well, um, as I mentioned, I AM here on, uh…'business'...so if someone comes in looking for me, it's not because they're trying to rescue some minor from this den of lust and sin. I, uh...just wanted to make sure you knew that."

Sergey finally looked up again to acknowledge her. After a moment's pause, Fatimah's song came to an end and he replied, "...in that case, there's someone here to see you."

"...oh," Priya deflated, then turned her head toward Rossy. "...you?"

"Me, actually," replied a deep, suave voice from the other direction. The man in the charcoal blazer grinned and extended a hand. "Javier Flores Martinez. Nice to finally meet you, Priya."

Quickly spinning around in her stool, Priya came to a halt under the man's stare and froze for just a fraction of a second before accepting his hand. "...hi…? Sorry, I didn't even see you there a moment ago. Um, I'm Priya...but I guess you know that already."

"Indeed I do," Javier nodded, giving her delicate hand an extra squeeze before he released it. "Sorry I'm a bit late this evening. Roads are starting to ice up out there, and people seem to forget how to drive."

"That's winter for ya," Priya nodded, suddenly unsure what to do with her hands.

As the cheering from the crowd died down, and Fatimah had gathered the last of the singles left for her up on the stage, a notification popped up on Rossy's virtual overlay. She smiled to herself. Millie was up next.

She closed to notification to find Priya staring back at her over her shoulder. "So if he's here to see me, what are YOU still doing here?"

Rossy blinked, taken off guard by the question.  _ Rude… _

"That's Rossybelle, my bouncer," Sergey put in, once again not paying attention to anyone in particular as he sorted through a pile of receipts behind the counter.

Without missing a beat, Javier's arm extended toward her, around Priya. "Pleasure to meet you as well, Rossybelle."

Still off her guard, Rossy reached forward and took his hand, giving it a firm shake as she took a moment to size him up. He was older, probably near Sergey's age but intent on looking much younger. His impressive grin was framed by a thick and well-trimmed mustache, his curious dark eyes by thick and well-trimmed eyebrows, and his scalp by thick and well-trimmed black hair, slicked back and all but dripping with hair gel.

He was a man who looked like he could sell a six-slice toaster to a one-woman family.

"Quite a grip you've got there," he noticed, squeezing her hand the same way he'd squeezed Priya's. "No wonder you're the bouncer!"

"...thanks…?" she replied, already unsure whether or not she liked this guy.

"So…" Priya butted back in, leaning awkwardly against the counter. "How does this work, exactly? You'll have to forgive me, I'm totally new to this kind of thing."

Javier raised a distinguished eyebrow. "Well, that sure is...forthcoming of you. Normally my clients like to think THEY'RE the ones in charge, and they try to start me off with a drink or two to make the business a little easier...".

A number of red flags went up in Rossy's brain over the course of that sentence. She took a moment to access a Notes app in her virtual overlay, recording the conversation with speech-to-text and keeping a metaphorical trigger finger on the red flag marker icon.

"...but you don't strike me as much of a drinker," Javier finished with a grin.

Priya pursed her lips and looked away glumly. "...I'm, uh...still underage…".

Another red flag. Even Sergey seemed to spot that one.

Then Priya caught it as well, hastily adding, "...for drinking, I mean! I-I'm totally of valid age to be HERE, like, I mean, in this strip--ehm, er...this 'establishment'...".

All eyes remained on her.

"...I'm nineteen," she finished, crossing her arms and looking down at the incomparably fascinating pattern on the carpet.

Javier allowed another moment of silence to pass before breaking it with a chuckle. "It's all for the better then, since I'm not particularly in a mood to drink tonight anyway!"

Rossy allowed herself to exhale, taking a moment to further assess the situation.  _ Okay, maybe this ISN'T what it sounds like...but why else would some 40-year-old corporate suit be meeting up with a 19-year-old girl in a strip club motel? I've seen movies. I've read books. I know where shit like this usually ends up… _

_...guess I'll just have to be ready to step in and do my job at any time, then. _

"Well alright then, I guess we should get on down to business," Javier announced, pushing himself out of his chair. "I had hoped to maybe stick around and catch a quick show, but I've already kept you waiting for some time now, haven't I?"

"Let's just say I already caught the show FOR you," Priya mumbled, sliding off her stool as well. "More than I needed to see…".

_ And yet you kept watching anyway… _ Rossy noted to herself with a half-smile.

"So, should we get started, or are we waiting for the other guy?" Priya continued, casting a glance around the room.

_...other guy? What the hell has this girl gotten herself into here? _

Javier waved it away and shook his head. "He's probably tied up in traffic, just like I was. We should go ahead and get started. I'm sure Lukas would have done the same."

He turned to Sergey. "My good man, you said you had a private room we could use for our little…'meeting'?"

Again, red flag. Rossy shot a wary glance over toward her boss, who met her gaze, then nodded curtly, as if he'd just made a new decision. "We have a room in the back that the dancers use for practice. That good enough for you?"

Javier raised a brow. "...does it at least have a table and chairs?"

He received only a nod in reply.

Silent for another moment, as if reading between the creases in Sergey's forehead, Javier finally smiled and leaned forward. "Works for me, then! How about you, Priya? Any qualms with this setup?"

"Why would I have qualms with that?" she asked, shaking her head. "What a weird question. Polite, sure. But also weird, if you think about it."

Rossy did think about it. She shrugged, admitting it was kind of a weird question. Then again, nothing about this scenario really felt anything less than weird at the moment.

"Good," Sergey cut in, then turned to his bouncer. "Rossybelle, show them to the practice room."

She frowned, eyes darting up to the empty stage, then flashing up a clock on her virtual overlay. Millie was going to be up there any second now, and she'd be damned if she was going to miss a single swivel of those hypnotic hips of hers.

"And I want you stationed outside that door while they're here," he added, levelly.

_...oh, FUCK no. _

"What, you want me to just...stand there outside their door like a creep for the rest of the night?" Rossy demanded, glaring laser beams she wished her eyes were outfitted with at him.

"They're guests," he intoned back, his words eerily calm against the fire in his scowling eyes. "I want them to feel comfortable and safe. You understand?"

She didn't, and she wanted to throttle him for even suggesting she miss Millie's performance. "You want me to stand out in that hall the rest of the night, NOT watching the floor out here?"

"I want you to make sure our guests are comfortable and safe," he repeated grimly, staring back at her with the intensity of a telepath.

_...he's trying to tell me something, _ she reasoned, wishing telepathy worked like wi-fi and that his meaning could be downloaded and converted back into acknowledged thought.  _ And he's being very specific with his words again, which probably means whatever he's saying, he doesn't want to say it in front of THEM… _

And that was when she remembered the red flags. She stopped recording and scrolled up to re-read the last few lines of recorded speech-to-text dialogue.

_...ahh, he wants me to make sure there's no monkey business between these two. How noble of him. How gallant. I'm sure this girl could handle herself… _

Rossy broke eye contact to glance over at Javier, currently running a greasy hand through his even greasier hair. She suddenly felt a little less sure about that last part.

"...fine," she said at last, pulling herself back upright. "But you're SURE you won't need me out here? What if someone tries to get on stage with Mill--I-I mean, the dancers--again?"

"I've got a shotgun behind the counter," Sergey replied, deadpan as ever.

Rossybelle's lips pursed. Javier's head cocked to one side in curiosity. Priya's eyes darted nervously.

And Sergey simply resumed washing out the pitcher from earlier, paying them all no mind whatsoever.

No one else volunteered, so Rossy broke the silence and took the lead. "...guess you've got a handle on it, then. Alright alright, this way, folks."

And with that, she led Javier and Priya away from the bar, around the seating area and the stage, toward the wraparound hall at the back, keeping one mechanical eye on the stage the whole time, on the slim chance she might still catch just a glimpse of her favorite dancer before serving her time in security exile…

_...damn, no such luck. _

Rossy had wanted to storm off down the hall in a huff, walking with just enough poise and purpose to appear graceful while stomping just loud enough to emote her anger and frustration...but alas, cybernetic legs were not quite accurately attuned to such exact displays of body language. She could think about walking, or she could think about stomping, but even top of the line machinery like hers wasn't quite capable of parsing thoughts of "storming". Wasn't it still miracle enough that prosthetics could "walk" in preprogrammed stride sizes anyway?

Well, Javier sure seemed to think so. "...you do a lot of walking, Rossybelle?"

"...I'm sorry, what?" she turned to look back at him as she continued down the hall.

He motioned toward her legs. "You carry yourself like someone who power-walks for exercise. Consistent stride. Like pre-measured steps. It's a skill a lot of power-walkers develop over time."

She gave him a weird look. "...I think Priya was right. You DO ask a lot of weird questions."

"I think it's his way of saying he's been watching your ass this whole time," Priya put in, wryly.

Behind her, Javier snorted. "Not exactly...I guess it IS a weird thing for me to point out. But there are only two kinds of people who walk like that."

Rossy shook her head disdainfully. "Not getting any less weird, buddy."

"People who power-walk," Javier continued, counting on his fingers, "...or people with cybernetic legs."

Rossy flinched, but managed to keep walking. "...huh. You don't say…".

"Mmhmm," he replied smoothly, as if he'd already decided which one she was. "That's how cybernetics work. They interpret the electric signals of your thoughts like data going through a processor, and respond with a very precise movement. Did you know that?"

She caught her vocal processor before the words "Yes as a matter of fact I did, I'm ninety-fucking-seven percent cybernetics" came out. Instead, she went with, "...sounds scientifically plausible, I guess."

She couldn't see it, but she could HEAR the grin through his words. "It's more than plausible, let me tell you. I should know, I've seen them in action."

_...what's he saying, that HE'S got prosthetic legs, too? _

"And that's exactly what we're here for," Priya added, relieved to find a place she could be included in the dialogue. "Contrary to popular belief, we didn't schedule a meeting all the way out here on the edge of town JUST to watch middle-aged women bare their body parts and thrust them suggestively towards our faces."

"Agreed," Javier replied, still smiling, "...that's just a perk."

Rossy knew she shouldn't have pushed the subject, but curiosity got the better of her. "Okay, but what did you mean 'I should know'?"

Javier paused, adjusted his tie, and announced, with every bit of practiced formality as would be expected of a corporate suit like himself, "Allow me to properly introduce myself. My name is Javier Flores Martinez, head of marketing for Phantom Technologies."

A red light immediately sprang up in the corner of her vision, but Rossy ignored it, a creeping dread crawling across her frontal lobe. "...Phantom Technologies? So...what, you guys like, make prosthetics or something?"

Javier looked almost hurt that she hadn't heard of his big important company. "We do. We're one of the largest and most respected providers of cybernetic limbs in the world!"

_...holy shit. _

The red light in the corner seemed to intensify.

"I can't believe you've never heard of Phantom," Priya chided, shaking her head. "But I guess not everyone follows science blogs, or has family with prosthetic replacements, huh?"

_...or has the money for that kind of shit, _ Rossy seethed back at her silently.  _ If only you knew who the hell you were dealing with, you privileged little bitch… _

"Well, I wouldn't have put it so bluntly," Javier replied, clearly perturbed by Priya's choice of words, "...but as my father used to say, 'you can't expect everyone to know everything about everyone every time.' But yes, I work for the world's most prominent distributor of fake body parts, and...well, when I saw the way you walked, I couldn't help but hope you might be a customer of ours. Looks like not, sadly. I apologize if that seemed a little skeevy of me."

Priya rolled her eyes. It was pretty clear what she already thought of Javier. Rossy seemed less sure all of a sudden. Behind the solid LCD display projected on her eyes, new thoughts began forming like storm clouds on the horizon.

And the red light was blinking furiously now. Someone really wanted a word with her…

Putting herself back into the moment, she glanced up at the two guests from beneath the brim of her hat, gave them a tentative half-smile and shrugged. "...you learn something new every day, I guess...".

"Anyway," she resumed, much louder now as she gestured to the door behind her, "...here's your room. I can't guarantee it's the ideal place to hold a meeting or whatever it is you two will be up to in here, but it's the only room on the premises that's completely free of nudity, short of actually buying a room for the night."

"Thank god," Priya muttered, shifting uncomfortably. "...or, y'know, whichever one you believe in."

Javier smiled, but allowed himself to remain more professional. "Thank you, Rossybelle. Did I hear you'd be standing guard out here while we conduct our meeting?"

"Unfortunately, yes," she sighed back as she heard the music start back up overhead.

Priya paused, one hand on the door handle. "...'unfortunately'?"

She received a side-eyed glance in response. "Yeah. There's nothing to DO back here. If I was out there, I'd at least have some entertainment to watch."

"Psh, 'entertainment'..." Priya snorted, stepping inside. "If THAT'S what passes for entertainment these days, then I'd rather bleach my own eyeballs."

Rossy, who was probably capable of doing exactly that without damaging hers, shrugged.

"Well if you ever DO, I know a great company who can fix that for you," chuckled Javier as he followed after her. He turned to Rossy and winked as he passed by, flicking a business card at her. "You ever need a body part chopped off and replaced, you know who to ask."

The red light became a red exclamation mark, blinking like a strobe light.

Rossy took the card and stuffed it into the breast pocket of her leather vest, watching the door close behind him. A sea of thoughts roared inside her mind, like a thousand voices in a crowd, all asking the same questions.

...and they all contained the word 'Doctor'.

_...but first, _ she told herself, leaning against the wall to feel the thrum of the bass vibrate against her silicon skin as she prepared for a long, hard evening,  _...I'd better see what THIS asshole has to say. _

She "clicked" on the blaring notification in the corner of her overlay and asked aloud into her speech-to-text translator, "The fuck do YOU want?"

The emboldened words glared back harshly at her.  _ DID HE JUST SAY 'JAVIER FL0RES MARTINEZ'? R0SIE? ANSWER ME, R0SIE. Y0U'D BETTER N0T IGN0RE THIS. Y0U MIGHT BE IN SERI0US TR0UBLE. _


	8. Auto-Correct's A Real Sonofabitch For People With Accents

"Alright, what do you mean, 'I'm in serious trouble'?" Rossy demanded, keeping her voice down and her internal microphone up as she speech-to-texted her ghostly conversationalist back.

As usual, there was a pause while the reply was "typed". Rossy stood close to the door, turning on a recording app in hopes of picking up on the conversation going on inside.

_ 0H G00D, S0 Y0U ARE PAYING ATTENTI0N AFTER ALL. AS Y0U'VE ALREADY HEARD, THIS JAVIER GUY IS A C0RP0RATE BIGWIG F0R THE W0RLD'S LARGEST CYBERNETICS PR0VIDER. D0N'T TELL ME I NEED T0 EXPLAIN WHY THAT'S DANGER0US T0 Y0U. _

"Couldn't hurt, could it?" Rossy asked. Inside, she heard Priya pull a laptop out of her bag. From the sound of her voice, she almost sounded happy or excited now, a sharp contrast to her grim sarcasm just minutes earlier. "Who is this guy, really? I've never seen you this concerned."

The pause before response this time ran longer than it should have. Rossy wondered for a moment if the messaging app had frozen up on her, but the reply eventually came through:

_ USE Y0UR BRAIN, R0SIE. Y0UR WH0LLY 0RGANIC, BI0L0GICAL, FLESH-AND-BL00D BRAIN. THIS GUY RUNS A C0RP0RATE EMPIRE BUILT 0N MARKETING T0 PE0PLE LIKE Y0U. AS FAR AS HE'S C0NCERNED, Y0U'RE A HARDWARE DEM0 AT A TRADE SH0W. HE'D L0VE T0 JUST TAKE Y0U APART, PUT HIS HANDS ALL 0VER Y0U, AND SEE - QUITE LITERALLY - JUST WHAT Y0U'RE MADE 0F. AND S0METHING TELLS ME HE W0N'T LIKE WHAT HE SEES… _

Her wholly organic, biological, flesh-and-blood brain simulated the feeling of ice in her stomach and fire in her heart. "...and why won't he like what he sees? What does that even mean?"

Pause.

_ IT MEANS Y0U STAY AWAY FR0M HIM. F0R Y0UR 0WN G00D. _

"No, no, no, no, no," she fired back, automatically counting a finger with each 'no'. "Don't you DARE give me any of that vague-ass bullshit! You need to tell me exactly what the hell is going on here. If this guy is some kinda threat to me, then I need to know what I'm up against. I'm not gonna let you hide anything from me this time!"

Pause.

_ D0N'T BE LIKE THAT, R0SIE. I'VE T0LD Y0U BEF0RE, I D0N'T HAVE THE ANSWERS Y0U'RE L00KING F0R. I'M JUST THE V0ICE IN Y0UR HEAD, HELPING T0 KEEP Y0U 0UT 0F TR0UBLE. _

Rossy groaned and leaned against the wall, arms crossed as she stared sullenly at floor. She could feel the beat of the music in the main theater rumbling against her shoulders - inasmuch as prosthetics can "feel" vibrations, that is. What she felt was more akin to a buzz that traveled up her "spinal cord" and into the crevices of her brain that registered physical feelings.

Being a cyborg was weird.

_...or at least weird to someone who grew up never needing to think about it, _ Rossy mulled with a heavy sigh.  _ I mean, I could've learned about cybernetics if I was still in college. I could've DONE something with my life if I were still an Organic. If I hadn't been plucked right out of my old life, I might have spent tonight bulking up for a trigonometry test or something. If that asshole Doctor hadn't gone and "saved me"... _

She stopped, eyes on the floor as the speakers hummed a sensual, breathy vocal through the wall behind her.

_...then I might not be alive at all. _

Frustrated, Rossy kicked the floor with her boot, prompting an audible pause from inside the practice room.  _ But what good is being alive if I'm not allowed the freedom to follow my own hopes and dreams anyway? What's the point of cheating death and getting a bitchin' cool new body if all I get to do with it is work shitty half-way jobs to pay for it? _

_ And how many times have I had this conversation with myself now? This sucks… _

"Hey," she said into the chat window. "What would happen if I just said 'fuck you', ignored you forever, and struck out on my own?"

Pause.

_ Y0U'D PR0BABLY BE DEAD BEF0RE M0RNING, T0 BE H0NEST. _

"What, you think that little of me?" she puffed back indignantly. "I got on fine living by myself before all this, I'm sure I could do it again."

Pause.

_ Y0U'D BE DEAD, BECAUSE I'D HAVE ACTIVATED A REM0TE SHUTD0WN 0N Y0UR P00R UNSUSPECTING ELECTR0NIC MUSCLES. D0N'T THINK F0R A M0MENT I W0ULDN'T D0 IT. _

"...oh."

Pause.

_ YEAH. _

There was another pause, but not due to delayed response this time. There had to be at least some grain of truth to what he was saying. Sure, he hadn't exactly given her a demonstration of these supposed powers, but he was clearly connected directly to her input systems, as he would often show up out of the blue to comment on something she was looking at. Over the past year, she'd eventually just sort of gotten used to his eternal presence, but even just thinking about how much power he might have over her was enough to give her the electronic shivers.

...if he even WAS a 'he', anyway. There was still no cut-and-dried indication that her text message ghost slash voice in her head was male, or even a real person for that matter. All Rossy had to go on was an imagined voice she'd come up with to read every caps-locked word he sent to her in. For all she knew, the responses could be from some artificial intelligence auto-responder on the other side of the world or something. As she'd learned over the past year, technology sure was one hell of a wild thing to behold.

_...but then how would it know what I'm looking at? _ she went on, bored enough in her own mind to continue this thread.  _ Technology is smart, but there's no WAY humanity has programmed microcomputers to recognize things like what a fist fight looks like, or how to extrapolate my intentions based solely on the fact that I purchased a pair of underwear that I don't need. Computers aren't THAT smart...at least not yet. _

_...right? _

She waited expectantly to feel her processor start overheating, or humming loudly, or giving some indication that it had somehow gained the very sentience of which she spoke. But alas, no such thing happened. Reality continued to spin, and the music behind her continued to groove along, and somewhere just beyond those walls, a really cute girl continued to gyrate and bounce her most enticing and accentuated physical features for an amused and titillated audience that this particular cyborg could not presently be included in.

Rossy let out another loud sigh.

_ WHY THE L0NG FACE, R0SIE? WERE Y0U REALLY L00KING F0RWARD T0 FINALLY SEEING S0ME TITTY THIS EVENING? _

"Fuck off," she muttered back. It was about more than just the titty and he knew it.

Pause.

_ 0F C0URSE IT'S AB0UT M0RE THAN JUST THE TITTY. BUT Y0U'VE BEEN HALF-DATING THIS GIRL F0R, WHAT, THREE WEEKS N0W, RIGHT? IF I WAS THREE WEEKS INT0 DATING A STRIPPER AND STILL HAD YET SEE A SINGLE NIPPLE, I'D BE UPSET T00. _

For whatever reason, that got a half-hearted chuckle out of her. "...not gonna lie, it does kinda feel like I'm missing out."

Pause.

_ I'D 0FFER T0 SH0W Y0U MY NIPPLE IN A DISPLAY 0F S0LIDARITY, BUT I'M SW0RN TO SECRECY, AND SELFIES ARE N0T ALL0WED WHILE I'M 0N THE CL0CK. _

Another chuckle slipped out. "Dammit, stop making me laugh, I'm supposed to still be mad at you!"

Pause.

_ 0KAY, WE D0N'T HAVE T0 TALK AB0UT B00BS IF Y0U D0N'T WANT T0. G0 AHEAD, Y0U PICK THE SUBJECT. _

Another pause, from Rossy this time. This sudden splash of sociability came off as suspicious to her. Was this some kind of new mind game, or was he genuinely interested?

"...alright then, let's change things up. Let's get meta for a second here. What's got you so talkative tonight?"

Pause.

_...C0MING FR0M Y0U, THAT S0UNDS LIKE SUSPICI0N TALKING. CUT ME S0ME SLACK, R0SIE. I JUST FIGURED Y0U MIGHT WANT S0ME0NE T0 TALK T0 WHILE Y0U'RE STUCK PLAYING GUARD D0G IN THE HALL. _

"Oh, really now?" she replied haughtily. "Since when do you care about making sure I'm not bored? Of course I'm suspicious. You've never just wanted to chat with me before, unless it's to keep me busy while you pull your invisible strings or whatever the hell you do all day. Give me one reason I should think this time is any different."

Pause.

A long one.

She wasn't wrong though. She couldn't be. His random messaging throughout the year they'd been together hadn't exactly made him out as the sterling conversationalist he probably thought he was. Whenever he wasn't pestering her about budgeting her allowance, or berating her for buying new clothes, all he ever did was question her actions and insist she stay hidden for her own good. He may as well have been her dad…

A toxic memory bubbled under the surface of consciousness.

_...wonder how they're doing without me, _ she thought bitterly.  _ Do they even regret disowning me in the first place...? _

The incoming message shook her back into the moment.

_ HEY, IF Y0U D0N'T WANNA TALK, N0B0DY'S MAKING Y0U. I JUST FELT LIKE CHANGING IT UP T0 HELP PASS THE TIME. BELIEVE IT 0R N0T, Y0U'RE N0T THE 0NLY 0NE WH0 DREW THE SH0RT STRAW T0NIGHT. I T00 HAD PLACES T0 BE, AND PIZZAS T0 EAT, BUT MY B0SS T0LD ME I SH0ULDN'T LEAVE Y0U AL0NE WITH A SLICK S0N 0F A BITCH LIKE JAVIER HANGING AR0UND. S0, SINCE I'M STUCK BABYSITTING, I FIGURED MAYBE IT W0ULDN'T BE THE W0RST THING IN THE W0RLD T0 STRIKE UP A CIVILIZED C0NVERSATI0N, Y0U KN0W? _

Rossy took her time to read and re-read the message, surprised for the second time this week by his sudden and inexplicable human-ness. It was certainly hard to believe he was just a software auto-response now. He was a genuine human on the other end of the conversation, a real-live, probably-flesh-and-blood-Organic human...

...a human who knew where she was at all times, who could silently and anonymously lurk on the edge of hearing in her every waking moment, who knew what kind of underwear she wore, and kept at his fingertips a kill switch that could disable all of her limbs at a moment's notice. So he claimed, anyway…

_...creepy fucker. _

But, creepy or otherwise, he was at least partially right. If she wanted to get paid for tonight, then she had nothing else to do but sit in the hall like a gargoyle, listening for any sounds of struggle or inappropriate banging that she was still convinced would eventually start emanating from the practice room at any minute. Her only available entertainment at the moment was to make casual chit-chat with her mysterious possessor.

A tiny light flickered on in her brain. Figuratively speaking.

"Hey, what's your name?"

Pause.

_ C0ME 0N R0SIE, Y0U KN0W THAT'S SUPP0SED T0 BE CLASSIFIED INF0RMATI0N. WHAT KIND 0F PERS0NAL SPY JUST HANDS 0UT THEIR NAME LIKE A BUSINESS CARD? _

"Well you know MY name," she retorted, pulling the brim of her fedora over her eyes as she leaned against the wall. "You wanna make casual conversation or not?"

Pause.

_ I SUPP0SE Y0U HAVE A P0INT. BUT EVEN Y0U SH0ULD KN0W THAT ANY NAME I GIVE Y0U W0N'T BE MY ACTUAL, REAL NAME. _

"Of course not," she agreed, listening to the applause in the main theater room. "Spies are supposed to be anonymous random dudes with default avatars and like 3 followers. If spies are anything like I think they are, then you're probably just some lonely rando with a fedora sitting all hunched up in a cheap office chair, hand on your chin as you switch back and forth between watching me and watching anime porn."

Pause. She was actually quite proud of herself for that one.

_...0KAY, FIRST 0FF, Y0U'RE THE 0NE WITH THE FED0RA, MILADY. AND SEC0ND, D0N'T KN0CK ANIMATED P0RN JUST CAUSE Y0U'VE NEVER SEEN ANY G00D 0NES. _

Rossy snickered loudly at that. "I can't believe you just admitted that! What a nerd."

Pause.

_ N0 SHAME, N0 BLAME. _

She shook her head, noting that the music had faded out now. Another performance missed…

_ BESIDES, IF I GIVE Y0U A NAME - HELL, ANY NAME AT ALL - IT GIVES Y0U A DEGREE 0F P0WER 0VER ME. _

She raised an eyebrow. "...power?"

Pause.

_ Y0U KN0W H0W THE 0LD ST0RIES G0. GETTING S0ME0NE'S NAME GIVES Y0U P0WER 0VER THEM. 0NCE Y0U CAN PUT A NAME T0 S0METHING, IT BEC0MES REAL. IT HAS A F0RM N0W. Y0U HAVE A B0X Y0U CAN PUT IT IN. WHEN Y0U GIVE IT A NAME, IT L0SES S0ME 0F ITS MYSTERY, ITS UNKN0WABILITY. INSTEAD 0F ADMITTING UNDER YOUR BREATH "0H G0D, IT'S A GH0ST", N0W Y0U CAN JUST SAY "0H, NEVER MIND, IT'S JUST B0B". _

A stray thought crossed paths with this strange new philosophy. "...so if I just start calling you Bob, I don't have to be afraid of you anymore?"

Pause.

_...WELL, WHEN Y0U PUT IT LIKE THAT… _

"You know, Bob," she continued, testing the weight of the word, "...I don't know why I was ever afraid of you in the first place."

Pause. Or rather, no reply.

"I went to school with a kid named Bob. He wore thick glasses and was prematurely balding, and he liked travel documentaries."

Still no response.

"...so if you're not gonna give me a name, I guess I'll just call you Bob after all, and forever imagine you as a balding thirty-something with thick glasses, trying your best to sound like Christian Bale in text form as you type ambiguous condescending messages right into my head, wishing you were on vacation in some faraway place, like maybe--"

_ SH0E. _

"...what?"

Pause.

_ DAMN AUT0-C0RRECT. I MEANT SH0E. SH0E. SEE. EIGHT. 0H. Y0U. FUCKING...0NE SEC0ND, NEED T0 TURN 0FF SPEECH-T0-TEXT. _

Giggling to herself during the ensuing pause, Rossy noted that "Bob" was also relying on speech-to-text on his end of the conversation.

_ ZH0U. MY NAME IS ZH0U. _

She let the words hang in front of her, letting the moment wash over her, and she silently mouthed the word to herself, putting her teeth together to mock-pronounce the "zh" sound. Experimentally, she said the name out loud, and sure enough, speech-to-text translated it back as "shoe".

"Zhou, huh?" she replied, letting the chat client leave the incorrect spelling in place. "That's an...exotic name."

Pause.

_ EX0TIC? C0ME 0N N0W R0SIE, D0N'T BE RACIST. WAIT, S0RRY. I MEAN "R0SSY". GUESS I'M 0NE T0 TALK, HUH. AUT0-C0RRECT'S A REAL S0N 0F A BITCH F0R PE0PLE WITH ACCENTS. _

Rossy blinked. "...huh. Yeah, I guess I never really thought about it that way. Good thing I don't talk like my mom, then…".

She lingered on the thought just a second longer. "...so, you've got some kind of asian-sounding name and you speak with an accent. You're sounding less and like like a Bob every minute. Any other mysterious secrets you wanna divulge to me while we're having ourselves a little moment together?"

Pause.

_...WHAT, Y0U TELLING ME Y0U D0N'T HAVE AN ACCENT? _

"Hey, don't you backtrack on me! Not when we're finally making progress on some of the most important questions I've had about you for an entire year now!"

Pause.

_ Y0U WERE THAT CURI0US AB0UT MY ACCENT F0R THAT L0NG? _

"C'mon man, put yourself in my clothes!" she sighed back into the brim of her hat. "You've been inside my head for a year now, seeing everything I see, and you know ten times as much about me as I do you. Wouldn't YOU be curious too? Wouldn't YOU give just about anything you had, when you didn't have nothing to begin with anyway, just to know even one little fact about the faceless voice over your shoulder that doesn't ever shut up or let you live your own life without shit-talking your every decision?"

She waited eagerly for the expected pause to pass to see his answer.

The pause was in no hurry though, and quickly overstayed its welcome. She was about to start speak-typing again when his reply finally came through.

_...Y0U JUST WANTED A NAME Y0U C0ULD B0X ME UP IN. _

Rossy snorted. "I guess so. I knew I ever asked that you wouldn't give me an actual name. But anything's better than calling you 'Text Message Guy Who Types Zeroes Instead of Os Like It's Still The Coolest Thing Ever'."

Pause.

_ HEY, MAYBE Y0U SH0ULD ST0P W0RRYING AB0UT MY SUPER C00L TYPING QUIRKS AND TAKE A L00K AT THE C0NVERSATI0N Y0U'VE BEEN REC0RDING 0N THE 0THER SIDE 0F THAT D00R. THERE'S S0ME PRETTY DAMN RELEVANT STUFF HERE. _

_ Oh shit, that's right, _ Rossy remembered, limbs clicking back to life as she stood up straight and pulled her fedora back into place.  _ Got so caught up in finally learning Zhou's name that I forgot to do my job for a sec… _

She called up the text file, still actively recording speech-to-text as she scrolled up to the top. "Alright Shoe, what am I looking for in here?"

Pause.

_ PLEASE TELL ME Y0U'RE JUST BEING LAZY AB0UT THE AUT0-C0RRECT AND THAT YOU'RE N0T ACTUALLY SAYING "SH0E" 0UT L0UD LIKE THAT'S MY NAME... _

This time Rossy allowed herself a longer pause before answering, if only because she felt like mulling over her possible dialogue options before committing to a decision that he would indubitably remember in some crucial story moment later on. She elected to go with:

"I wouldn't know how to change the auto-correct settings even if I DID have time to mess around with them. Now, before we get ourselves ten miles off topic again, tell me what parts of this conversation I should paying the most attention to, Shoe…".


	9. Phantom Limbs

"First of all, I really want to thank you for taking the time to come all the way out here to meet with me," Javier started, taking a seat in the low-budget plastic chair he'd brought over from the far side of the room. "Especially in this awful weather."

"Yeah, I'm a well-known hater of the snow, but..." Priya paused for a moment to pull a laptop out of her shoulder bag, "...when opportunity knocks, sometimes you gotta...shovel snow out of the driveway first, or something...wow, I really botched that one, didn't I?"

"The attempt is appreciated," Javier smiled back. "Oh, and I guess I should also apologize for suggesting this particular venue. All the other hotels in town were booked up this week, and I didn't want to waste any time putting this meeting together, so I opted to make do with what I had."

"No, no, it's totally fine," she replied, waving him off with one hand, masterfully keying in her password with the other. "What venue could make a girl more comfortable than a sweaty room full of thick thrusting thighs and a gaggle of googly-eyed boys?"

That got a chuckle out of him. "Okay, THAT one was good!"

She gave him a momentary smile, then returned focus to her screen. "Really though, I'm just glad to have this opportunity. Do you know how rare it is for basement dwellers like me to even get a SHOT at selling a slap-together code package scripted entirely in my own bedroom?"

Judging by the arched brow on his face, Javier definitely knew exactly how rare it was.

"Well, I'm glad to hear you're so gung-ho about this," he said, placing his wrists on the edge table and folding his fingers together. "Most folks I've met with aren't quite so forthcoming about their...um, job status."

A look of uncertainty flashed across Priya's face, then disappeared just as quickly. "...well, I don't really have any credibility to lose at this point, so there you go."

"You're not worried about making a good first impression?"

She blinked, then frowned, then shrugged. "The way I see it, I've ALREADY made a good impression. You wouldn't have bothered setting up a meeting like this if you weren't interested in what I've got, much less actually flew out here AND paid my entrance fee for a nudie show, unless you were already convinced this would be a good decision."

Javier looked genuinely impressed. Or was he silently just laughing at her behind those jovial - yet razor keen - dark eyes of his? Hard to tell…

He finally broke into a smile. "...well, if your app didn't already impress me, then your gutsy bravado just now certainly did! And who am I kidding, your app definitely impressed me. You had nearly one hundred thousand downloads in your first week, didn't you?"

"My pride and joy," Priya beamed back, grateful to be talking with someone who recognized her value in a quantifiable measure. "I knew I couldn't be the only one struggling with the problem. But even I never realized there was such a demand for something like that."

"That's more or less how niche markets are formed," Javier agreed with a nod. "You create something to fill a need, and before you or anyone else realizes it, that need was the exact itch hundreds of thousands of people were trying to scratch but couldn't ever reach."

"A mildly concerning metaphor, but I'll take it."

Javier leaned back a bit, hands behind his head. He appeared quite satisfied with his metaphor regardless, Priya noted, and added "thinks himself clever" to the profile she was building for him in her head. Another part of her head wondered if this knowledge would come in handy during this meeting, if she could fudge her way through the "incomplete" parts of her presentation by simply buttering him up. Yet another part of her head doubted it, given the surprising sharpness he'd demonstrated in the hall earlier, calling out the bouncer as a cyborg. She would make no mistake, this Javier guy was clearly a tough nut to scratch...

_...or, wait, no...SHIT, I'm mixing metaphors now. Just gave myself some very bad imagery there. Gross. Bad thoughts. Go away, bad thoughts. Ugh. _

"Anyway," Javier continued, "I didn't come here to waste your time repeating what you already know, so let's go ahead and get straight to the brass tacks. Show me what you've got."

Priya silently breathed a sigh of relief and cracked her knuckles. "Alrighty. So, uh, all I really had time to prepare was a short video demo of what the software looks like in action. I mean, I can give you an in-depth glimpse at the source code itself too, I guess, but that's only going to mean anything if you're a source code kind of person, you know?"

He chuckled and made a pass with his hand. "Never read the stuff myself, but I'll listen if you can translate."

"Heh, translate," she replied, apparently aware of a joke he wasn't. "Anyway, sure. I can do that. But for starters, I'm pretty sure this video will tell you all you need to know for YOUR purposes."

"I'll be the judge of that," he replied playfully.

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Priya pulled up the video, flipped the screen of her tablet laptop around, then leaned across the table to watch it with him.

The video opened with a shot of Priya herself hunched over her keyboard, closely studying a block of text on a monitor, mouthing silently to herself. Her head turned and cut to a shot of an older man in a chair, holding his head tenderly in one hand.

"Record video," he said in a thick Indian accent, punctuated by an exasperated sigh.

The camera cut back to Priya, quickly whipping her head back to her screen. A waveform of the man's voice appeared in one corner, followed by a slightly different waveform below it. The words "command not recognized" displayed beneath them.

Biting her lip, the video-Priya furiously typed a string of characters, checked her work, then called back to him. "Try it now."

Cut back to the old man as he sighed again and shook his head slowly. He carefully placed an open palm against his temple, then moved his hand forward in a short, slicing arc, as if slicing bread with a karate chop. He paused, blinked, then turned his head back toward the camera in wonder.

Video-Priya glanced back at the screen, her face lighting up, then grinned back at the old man.

He slowly smiled back, directly into the camera. Real-world-Priya felt for a moment like he was looking directly at her, and a similar smile crept across her face at the thought.

Cut back to a mirror image of her own smiling face, video-Priya sat up straight in her chair, held out a hand to present a software icon that had materialized on-screen, and said something in a language Javier clearly did not speak.

He held up a hand, prompting her to pause the video. "...was that in Indian?"

She gave him a dubious eyebrow. "Tamil."

"Right, sorry. Tamil." He glanced back at the paused video. "This whole video is in Tamil?"

There was a fraction of a second's delay before she answered, "...yeah, I usually only need to speak it around family, but I felt like the best way to really sell this presentation would be to present in any language other than English."

"...huh." He rolled the thought over in his mouth once before following up. "Alright, now I'm curious. I already know what the product is, so I understand THAT part of the video, but what's the Tamil angle about? Are you looking to corner that specific part of the market first, or is there some manner of personal meaning to this?"

Priya crossed her arms, the corner of her lip curling into a smile. "You're not watching an art film, it's not a question of hidden meaning or anything like that. It's pretty simple, actually."

Javier seemed doubtful.

"Here, I'll show you again," she said, rewinding the video. "It's all in the audio."

Again Javier watched the old man say "record video", then say nothing when he made the hand motion, then heard Priya announce the product in Tamil. He appeared to consider all this in his head before holding up a finger and turning back to face her.

"...he speaks in English, and you don't," he observed, trailing the thought a little further. "But it's more than just a translation thing, isn't it? You can tell by his accent that English isn't his first language...".

Priya continued to study him as he worked through the rest of the equation. With each dart of his dark eyes, he seemed to slice through another thought, as if cutting open a box to reveal the truth inside.

"...and you showed a voice clip, too," he said, face brightening as he made the final cut. "So I can only guess the answer is that he couldn't activate the software by voice command because the system didn't recognize his accent. Is that it?"

Her grin confirmed it.

"So you created a system that didn't rely on voice commands to get around that…" he finished, with a thoroughly impressed nod. "Very creative!"

"I'm glad you think so!" she replied, still beaming. "It was originally just a software hack made specifically for my dad, but I talked it over with some friends, and decided I had something bigger on my hands, and thus, CSL was born!"

"CSL…" he repeated, parsing out the acronym in his head. "...Cybernetic Sign Language?"

She nodded. "You pick up quick."

Javier chuckled, running a hand down his chin. "It makes perfect sense. I would have gone with something more marketable, though. 'Gestures', maybe?"

"Well, if this meeting goes the way we both hope it will, then that may well end up what you call them," she replied, taking her seat opposite him again.

"Right," he agreed. He laced his hands together, sitting up straight. "So, just to condense the remaining itinerary of our meeting time into a measly few bullet points, here's the breakdown. I want you to show me everything the app can already do, then I want to talk to you about what I'd like to SEE it do, then I'll need to hear my encryption guy's opinion on the stability and security of the app, and THEN we'll get into the real gritty stuff."

"Wait, wait, wait," Priya cut in, holding up a finger. "'Encryption guy'? You never mentioned your accomplice was some kind of 'encryption guy'."

Javier blinked. "...is that going to be a problem?"

She hesitated, then shrugged back. "I just figured he was gonna be like...some kind of sales manager or something, someone for you to bounce dollar signs off of. What do we need an encryption guy for?"

His fingers shifted into a steeple position. "Well, as I'm sure you bothered to read up on, Phantom prides itself on publishing only the most intuitive, efficient, user-friendly, and above all, SECURE apps. I just want someone on hand who can help us identify where in your code the biggest weaknesses might be, how we can seal up the cracks, and how much that's going to cost."

"Are you saying my code is full of holes?" she snorted back, then - realizing Javier might not have thought it as funny as she did - quickly followed up with a reassuring chuckle. "I'm kidding."

She caught just the slightest hesitation in his reaction, but he seemed to move past it and laughed along politely. "Just covering my bases."

If one thing could be said about the man, Javier Martinez Flores was no fool. He was an observer, like she was, but he hid it much better, tucked away under the pleasant and witty facade of a distinguished gentleman. He seemed to have more charisma in his perfectly coiffed mustache than Priya did in her whole body. The distant observer in the back of her mind wondered what kind of crimes the man might have gotten away with in another life.

"Why don't you go ahead and crack open that source code," he prompted, turning the spotlight over to her. "Show me everything the program can do."

For lack of a projector, Priya obligingly scooted around to his side of the table and pulled up a code editor with her app loaded into it. At least Javier didn't smell of cologne or hair gel, no matter how much he was clearly using on himself.

She took a deep breath and put on the 'oral presentation voice' she'd perfected in school. "Well, as you mentioned before, you already know how cybernetics work on the whole. The brain sends a bioelectric signal down one of a person's many, many, many nerves, and the cybernetic body part that's 'listening' for that exact signal picks it up and flexes or rotates or whatever movement is required of it. So, if it's that easy to isolate what those signals look like to an electronic system, we can use them as input to trigger a software command, like when you plug a flash drive into a USB port and it automatically starts playing the tutorial video."

Javier nodded. "You wanted to create a shortcut for opening basic software commands."

"More like, my dad COULDN'T open the basic commands," she shot back, levelly, "...so I came up with a workaround solution. And other people who were in the same boat liked my solution well enough that they offered to pay me money for it. So before I knew it, I had a product on my hands."

"And so begins another tale..." he said with a smile. "Now, you said this program could trigger software commands, right? So you're thinking it could potentially trigger whatever software command you could want it to? Did you have any other ready-made 'Gestures' like this one?"

"Sure," she replied, scrolling through the code. "I just made entries for whatever my dad asked for, so he has, ahem, 'Gestures', for recording video, taking snapshots, playing a radio station, and launching his Translate app. All you need to do is copy the specific bioelectric signal ID as defined in any other piece of cybernetic software and tell it what app to open when it sees it. Easy as brushing your teeth."

Priya took a moment's pause to air out her pride. It was a simple solution, sure, but SHE had thought of it, and she felt no shame in flashing it around a bit. She'd earned her bragging rights, as far as she was concerned.

...but Javier seemed put off by something. A crease appeared between his eyebrows. "...now when you say 'bioelectric signal ID'...?"

Her head tilted slightly. "...yeah, what about it? Every bioelectric signal sent from the brain to a muscle has a specific trackable frequency, right? And all cybernetic body parts come with their own database file that assigns an electronic ID to each type of bioelectric signal it's 'listening' for. So you just have to isolate those IDs and plug them into this software."

"WHOSE electronic IDs?"

Her eyes glanced away, then back. "...whoever the manufacturer is, I guess?"

He jabbed a finger at the screen. "Whose IDs are plugged into your source code here?"

She lit up with recognition. "Oh yeah! That's what I forgot to mention! The cybernetic eye my dad uses IS, in fact, a Phantom eye! Looks like we're customers of yours after all!"

Again, there was a noticeable delay before Javier's reaction changed from business serious to business casual. It only lasted for a fraction of a second, but it was just enough that a sharp-eyed observer like Priya could pick up on it and wonder what the pause between vague apprehensive frown and customer service smile could mean.

"Well, I'm certainly pleased to hear that you like our products enough that you want to make them even more functional," he said, pushing himself up on his palms to straighten his back again. "...but would you mind telling me how you managed to rip my company's bioelectric signal IDs from our copyrighted software?"

_...oh. Oh, FUCK… _

Priya felt all the color drain from her face as her heart stopped for what she swore was a solid nine seconds before starting up again.

"...I-I, uh…" her mouth babbled for a moment as her brain scrambled for a way to make her excuse sound plausible and not straight-up criminal. "I...didn't want to mention it, but I, uh...kinda used a set of...well, someone else's cracking tools to poke around in the code. It was kind of a shortcut, I admit, but...results are results? I mean, if you DO end up buying, we can always go back and write it all up properly, I just needed something that would, y'know, WORK…".

Javier let her trail off before he picked up his end of the conversation again. "You know what, don't worry too much about it. To be frank, I'm more concerned that there are certain...unsavory types out there who are hacking up our code and injecting it into our hardware. That's the kind of thing that leads to security breaches and puts people at risk and leads to lawsuits."

Priya, whose face had by now pushed all of its usual color into her ears, making them a deep, wine red, simply nodded her approval, still not making eye contact just yet. "Hmm…".

"Hey, don't worry," he added, almost making a move to put a hand on hers, but deciding against it. She noticed a ring on his finger. "After all, that's why I have an encryption guy, isn't it?"

He suddenly switched gears and fished his phone out of the front pocket of his blazer. "Speaking of which, where the hell IS he, anyway?"

As he typed a message, he was interrupted by an incoming call. "Oh. Well alright, speak of the devil. Sorry, gimme just one second, Priya…".

She watched him walk over to the far corner of the room to take the call, still somewhat stunned by the turn things had taken. At least he was still being a courteous gentleman about things...

Priya honestly couldn't remember a time when she'd been this nervous before. Normally she was content to simply coast her way through all of life's conversations and confrontations using her finely-honed sarcasm and offbeat sense of humor. But there was something...different about this encounter. A certain air of importance. Some intangible force insisting that this business deal she was negotiating tonight was absolutely mission critical if she was to have any hopes of kickstarting a career in professional programming. To fail this business deal was - apparently - a matter of life and death.

She watched Javier as he held a finger to his ear, speaking quietly enough to be polite, but loud enough that she could hear him. A part of her wondered about the ring on his finger. What was a married man doing meeting a freshman like her for a business deal like theirs way out in a private strip club in the middle of nowhere like this, anyway? The whole thing looked fishy in the light.

_ Is this really happening right now? Did I really allow myself to come all this way out here, to THIS place, despite all the clear and obvious red flags along the way, all for the sake of some possible business deal? What was I thinking? Was I even thinking? Am I even thinking now? _

In that moment, Priya thought she felt herself slipping away, losing the rhythm of her breath, her spirit vaporizing into a formless ghost as it lifted out of her body, watching herself watch herself as reality blurred away into a series of asynchronous--

"Well, looks like Mister Encryption won't be joining us tonight," Javier announced, placing his phone back into his pocket as Priya's consciousness collapsed back inside her body and contrast returned to her vision. "Apparently the roads are getting worse and he doesn't want to chance anything until he can see what he's doing, so I guess we're going to have to wait until tomorrow to get his input."

Priya finally found her voice again. "...oh. Well, uh...okay, I guess that gives me a little time to reflect on my sins--I mean, to make sure I've got everything ready for him."

"Good," he nodded back. "Sorry we had to extend this longer than it needed to be. You have a place to stay tonight? Do you need a lift or anything?"

"Yes and no," she answered, quickly. "I mean, yes to the first, no to the second. I'm actually staying right here. This place IS a motel too, after all."

"Ah, so it is. Good planning on your part."

Priya shrugged. "I try."

Standing up, Javier tugged on the lapel of his blazer, then clapped his hands together. "Well, in that case, I guess we'll have to save the exciting conclusion for tomorrow night."

"Same time, same channel?"

"Sounds perfect."

And with that, Javier pushed in his chair, Priya shouldered her laptop bag, and Rossybelle stood up straight and acted like she hadn't been pressed up against the other side of the door, listening intently to their every word this whole time.


	10. It's Easy To Do The Impossible When It's Not Happening To You

"So what, you were really just standing out here this whole time?" Priya asked, giving Rossy what she felt was a rather sassy raised brow.

"That I was," she replied, testily. "It's apparently the only skill of mine that's appreciated around here."

"Getting paid to stand there and look pretty is nothing to be ashamed of, especially in a place like this," Javier offered, closing the door behind him.

It was Rossy's turn to give a rather sassy raised brow. "...'look pretty'?"

Realizing what he'd stepped in, Javier paused, raised a finger, then pointed to Rossy's hat. "Your killer fashion sense, I meant."

"Nice save," Priya mumbled, rolling her eyes.

"Thanks," Rossy replied with a half-smile. "My fashion sense is one skill I wish people around here DID appreciate."

"Put it up on stage and I'm sure they might," he joked back, running an awkward hand through his hair as he realized he was only sinking deeper.

Rossy shot a side glance to Priya, who gave her a slow, deliberate nod-blink-and-brow combo of acknowledgement; a universal gesture of body language commonly understood across all cultures globally by anyone who has ever needed to invent a quick shorthand meaning for, "oh my god can you believe this guy right now?"0

_ Applying purpose to an otherwise non-sequitur bodily gesture, _ Priya's brain registered in the background.  _ In other words, exactly what I set out to accomplish with the product I'm about to successfully sell to a major corporation. My first mountain. My big break. God, I'm awesome. _

"Alright, alright, c'mon, let's get you folks outta here before Sergey threatens you with the shotgun for harassing the staff," Rossy said, taking the lead.

Javier's raised a hand in compliance as he stepped in line to follow her and Priya back into the main auditorium. Knowing what she knew now after reading the recorded transcript, Rossy was significantly less convinced that he was staring at her ass while she walked, and believed he might genuinely be wondering if her legs were cybernetic. He definitely seemed to know his way around the inorganic limbs market, and even though everything about his appearance screamed greasy lascivious pervert, there was a distinct gleam of something sharper in his eyes and his tone. Maybe he really was a man of business. A real workaholic corporate monster, smart as a knife and worth more than the Powerball...

A cyborg salesman.

Rossy's brain instinctively told her throat muscles to gulp, even though she had no saliva to swallow or any such facilities for doing so. Something about him and this whole situation she'd found herself in just seemed...worrisome.

_ But 'worrisome' how? _ she asked herself.  _ A world-leading cybernetic body part salesman comes all the way out to a dinky little town in the ass-crack of the mountains just to meet up with some basement-dwelling startup programmer? And he just happened to pick the one strip-club-slash-motel that I, Rossybelle Acosta, the 97%-cyborg-wonderchild, happen to work at? _

She shot a glance back at him to make sure they were both still following as they made their way back through the main auditorium.

_...no, something isn't right about this. There's no way this could all just be a big coincidence, right? There's gotta be something more to this guy and why he's here...I bet that asshole Zhou knows more than he's letting on. He said I might be in danger, but didn't elaborate much...better put this on the To-Do list for tonight... _

She caught Sergey's eye as she walked them up to the counter, and through a series of almost-imperceptible nods and winks, communicated to him that all went well and they really WERE here for just a meeting and no funny business. Sergey seemed satisfied.

"Sorry to put you on the spot like this, my good man," Javier approached, leaning on the counter, "...but I'd like to request a re-booking of your...ahem, 'meeting room', again for tomorrow night. Is that alright with you?"

After a moment's pause, Sergey replied, "Long as you've got the money, sure, why not."

Javier flashed him a credit card, then turned to Priya. "So...you'll just be staying here, then?"

"Yep, already got my key and everything," she replied, eyeing the empty stage with some measure of contempt. "I guess I'll just meet you here again, same time tomorrow night?"

"Perfect," he said, taking his card back from Sergey. "Well, nice meeting everyone tonight. Thanks for keeping an eye on us, Rossybelle."

She nodded warily.

And with that, the cyborg salesman Javier Flores Martinez and the intrepid software engineer Priya Kapur strolled out the door, taking their knowledge of cybernetic hardware and its user interfaces - two things that might possibly be Rossy's only link to understanding more about her own body - along with them.

And as she watched them leave, Rossy heard an approach from behind, accompanied by a familiar voice. "There you are. Thought you could hide from me, did you?"

A smile finally crossed her lips - the Doctor in charge of her mechanical face had at least been kind enough to accommodate for those moments when the brain, subconsciously or automatically, tells the lips to curl upwards in pleasant recognition - and she turned around to see a sight for sore cyberoptics, Millie herself.

"Hey Millie," Rossy replied back, taking a moment to acknowledge that she was actually wearing clothes of the sort she probably wouldn't be wearing if she were still up on the stage. "I wasn't hiding. Why would I ever hide from you?"

"Aww, so you DO love me," she teased, as much as Rossy wished she wasn't teasing. "So, what did you think?"

"...about what?"

"You KNOW what," Millie pressed, resting a palm on an empty barstool. "How did I look tonight? Not like I see my own body when I'm busy making sure everyone else can."

Rossy's smile crashed to the floor. Metaphorically, that is. Her mechanical facial muscles reported no hardware errors. "...oh, uh...I...kinda didn't get to see your performance tonight."

The tiny pause and the inkling of disappointment in her tone felt like a crushing blow. "Oh...what happened, did Sergey put you on cleaning duty or something?"

"A waste of her talents," Sergey muttered from the kitchen, where he was busy sweeping his own floors.

Millie turned back to her expectantly, brow furrowed.

"He made me stand in the hall for an hour, eavesdropping on some business deal between a corporate suit and a college freshman," Rossy explained, sourly. "Of course this all started right before you were due to hit the stage. I had a reminder set and everything."

Millie shot a dirty look over at Sergey, then blinked and turned back to Rossy in surprise. "...you set an alarm for my dance?"

Her muscles tightened in embarrassment, or at least her brain told her they did. "...well, y-yeah. I didn't want to miss this one if I could help it, just in case you were gonna be wearing the…" - she glanced toward the kitchen, unsure whether or not she should mention the unmentionables within earshot of Sergey - "...gift that I got you."

"You mean that hot pink thong that wants to burrow its way straight up my ass?" Millie replied with perfect nonchalance, clearly unfazed to mention it around her boss. "Then yes, I was wearing it. You sounded so enthusiastic, I was hoping to see your reaction when you saw it…".

Rossy's nonexistent heart sank. "I'm sorry, Millie. I really wanted to see it."

A smirk emerged. "If it makes you feel any better, I'm still wearing it."

Rossy's implanted eyes were not equipped with x-ray vision, but that didn't stop them from sneaking a quick, almost involuntary glance down toward Millie's waist, her imagination doing the x-ray work for them. She tried to catch herself and quickly re-establish eye contact before Millie noticed, but it was too late. She gave Rossy a knowing smile and pinched the waistband through the fabric of her dress, giving it a playful tug before snapping the elastic back against her skin.

_ Oh come ON… _ she thought glumly.  _ Now you're just toying with me... _

"I have to hand it to you though," Millie continued, smoothing her dress back out, "...you have a pretty weird taste in fashion, but they fit the routine very nicely."

"...oh yeah?" Rossy said, unsure how else to respond.

"Mmhmm," Millie nodded, taking a seat and gesturing for Rossy to do the same. "A bit too tight for everyday wear, but up on stage, tight panties mean paying more attention to how you move and stretch your legs, meaning you have to be more calculated about your steps and kicks and splits and all that. Worked very well with the song I used tonight, made me pay closer attention to the rhythm. I give these a seven out of ten. Not recommended for beginners, but great for advanced and pro dancers."

A moment or two slipped past as Rossy just stared blankly back at her. Millie rested her chin on a free hand and stared back with a polite smile.

"...did you just give me a full user review of the panties I bought you?" Rossy finally asked, still unpacking everything she'd said.

"Yep," Millie replied, like that was that.

Rossy studied her for a moment, then jabbed an accusatory index finger in her direction. "...you DO make underwear reviews for your vlog, don't you?"

Millie gasped, feigning shock as she placed her a hand daintily to her heart. "Don't tell me you found it already!"

"Tch, ain't had time yet. Too busy standing outside a door all night."

"You're getting paid for it," she heard Sergey mumble from the kitchen, as if that made up for all the onstage seduction she'd missed.

"Yeah, well...kinda starting to wonder whether or not it was worth it," she added grumpily. "Sorry Millie, guess I'll just have to catch the show again another time…".

"Good," Millie nodded, "...cause I'm not gonna model them for you off-stage."

_...damn. _

"I guess that's fair," Rossy replied with a sigh. "Can't ask you to act like a stripper when you're not getting paid for it anymore than ask ME to bounce when I'M not getting paid for it."

"You ARE getting paid for it," Sergey repeated under his breath, even though Rossy's high-gain microphone picked him up just fine.

Millie smiled and even curtly inclined her head. "Glad to see someone who understands that. You'd be surprised how many people think taking my clothes off for a living means I'll do it anytime, anywhere. They forget that I'm a performer, not a pay-to-play service."

Rossy took a moment to consider this. "...so you don't mind people gawking at you, so long as it's only when you're on the stage?"

"That's pretty much the long and the short of it, yeah."

A moment and a few stray thoughts passed by before Rossy followed up. "...huh. Guess I still don't really get it. How you do it, I mean."

"What, how I take off my clothes?" She chuckled, running a finger beneath her shoulder strap and pulling it slowly down toward her arm. "It's like riding a bike, you never forget."

"I meant how you ride a bike ON STAGE," Rossy replied, shaking her head. "...er, you know what I mean. If you've got a problem with people staring at your body all the time, then why put it up on display, you know? Is the money really that good?"

Millie took a moment to level her eyes with Rossy, a strange luminescence passing across them as she spoke. "First of all, yeah, the money's pretty damn good. Second, it's different when you're up on the stage. Anywhere else...sitting here in this chair, shopping at the supermarket, walking the dog, taking a shit, ANYWHERE ELSE...I'm Millie. An average human being, with a life, and a heart, and a dream...not someone you just gawk at cause you like the shape of my tits, or whatever. You with me?"

Rossy nodded, almost imperceptibly.

"But when I'm on the stage," she continued, low and serious, "...I'm not Millie anymore. I can be someone else. Anyone else. Millie doesn't strut around in bejeweled thongs and high heels, or stroke her body sensually to make strangers' pants uncomfortable...but maybe Sherry Cashmere does. Or Brandi Foxx, or Cherry Liplock, whoever. When I'm up on that stage, I'm not Millie anymore."

She paused, eyes glancing down at the counter for a moment, as if she expected a drink to be there. She quickly reestablished eye contact when Rossy replied:

"...what, you just...pretend to be someone else? And then it doesn't matter who sees your tits, cause it's not really YOU up there?"

Millie rolled the thought over in her head. "...kinda, yeah. Well, sort of. It's not just 'pretending', it's more like…'acting'. When I put on my costume for the night, I'm just like any other actor. I'm stepping into the shoes of some other character...or, I guess stepping into their underwear, in my case. And I just sort of...let go."

She let the words hover, lost in thought again. Rossy, too intrigued now to let this slide, pressed it further. "You let go?"

Millie nodded, then looked her keenly in the eye again. "Okay, listen...I'm going to tell you something and you're probably going to call me crazy for it...but don't. I'm about to get serious with you here."

Behind her calm, unassuming expression, Rossy felt a flash of excitement inside her brain. "Alright, I'm listening."

Millie leaned in a bit closer. "Alright...so, you've heard people talk about having 'out-of-body' experiences before, right?"

Rossy didn't notice her mechanical fingers close as she considered the thought. She nodded.

"It's kind of like that...I don't just suddenly decide I'm gonna act like another person," Millie explained, tapping the side of her temple. "It's more like...I give up control of my body. I can feel my own self…'Millie'...I can feel 'Millie' slide right out of my head, and then I wait and watch as Sherry Cashmere or whoever takes my place. SHE has full control of my body now. SHE'S the one using MY hands, MY face, MY body. And when the routine is over, she walks backstage and gets dressed, then we trade places again and I'm back in charge. I become Millie again."

Rossy took a moment's silence to study Millie's expression, looking for any trace of sarcasm or her trademark dry humor. Either she really was a great actor, or she was being dead honest right now. In good faith, Rossy chose to assume the latter.

"...all that, just to get over your stage fright?" is what she ended up saying back.

"I guess," Millie replied with a shrug. "I never thought of it as 'stage fright', really...but I guess that's one way of it looking at it. It's just...so much easier to do the impossible when it doesn't feel like it's really happening to you, you know?"

_ I know that feeling, _ Rossy mused, nodding thoughtfully on the outside to show she was still interested in what Millie was talking about.  _ I've been living that feeling for over a year now...I've just been living it the other way around. I'm outside my body, but I'm also INSIDE another body. And I've been living inside it so long that I've almost forgotten what it feels like to feel OUTSIDE my body… _

_...it really IS so much easier to do the impossible when it doesn't feel like it's really happening to you… _

Rossy frowned. "...but it IS happening to me."

Before she could take it back, Millie picked it up and ran with it. "You feel that too?"

_...shit. _

"Y-yeah, I mean…I just...I know that whole 'out-of-body' kind of feeling. I've definitely felt like that before."

Millie's eyes seemed to wander up and down Rossy's body. "...because you're a robot?"

"Cyborg."

"...shit, yeah, that's what I meant, sorry." She paused, then smacked her forehead. "Oh, fuck me, that was probably way too personal. Shit, I fucked up. Sorry...again."

"It's fine, it's fine," Rossy insisted, brushing it off as her hand reached out to touch hers.

"I told myself I was going to work on that," Millie scolded herself, rubbing her eyes with her free hand. "I say things before I think about who I'm saying them to. I'm sorry, Rossy."

"Really, it's okay." Rossy was holding both her hands now, some very gay part of her brain screaming in delight at the thought. "And...you're right, it's because I'm a cyborg. But I WANT to talk about it! I've felt like this for a whole year now, and I've never been able to talk about how it feels to anyone else...and of all the people I could meet in this world, YOU, Millie...you get it! You're the first person I've met who might possibly understand me!"

For a moment, Millie didn't reply. She seemed to have noticed that Rossy was holding her hands, but she wasn't making any moves to pull away.

_...shit, Rossy, I think you laid it on a little too thick there…  _ she all but shouted at herself.

When Millie's gaze finally turned back up toward her, her expression was once again back to dead serious. "...you really get those same feelings?"

Not daring to break her inner tension just yet, Rossy nodded slowly. "All the time. Sometimes for me it's the other way around...like I'm the one controlling someone else's body. Without my old Organic body, my brain thinks I'M the Sherry Cashmere, and the life I'm living isn't even my own, and I'm just borrowing someone else's so they don't have to live it."

Millie had by now scooted even closer, listening intently, hands still safely secured within Rossy's.

"...eventually I 'wake up' again, and that's when I realize that it's ME in this body," Rossy continued, still translating her way through the thoughts as they lined up in her head. "...no, more like...I REMEMBER...I remember that this body IS my body. It's MY body. I AM the one who's living this life...and sometimes even then I can't believe I've really done the things I've done...".

"...but as long as you can keep fooling your brain into believing that you're someone else, the hard times are never as hard," Millie finished the thought, eyes glowing with kindred spirit.

Rossy cracked into a tiny smile. "...especially now that I have someone in my life who understands that."

They shared a lingering gaze as time seemed to warp and slow down to a crawl. Rossy felt paralyzed...entranced, even. She didn't have a heart to feel pounding in her chest, but she felt the electric tingle of excitement in her skull. This was it, wasn't it? They were having A Moment together. She felt her brain commanding her synthetic neck to lean forward into a kiss, but her synthetic neck wasn't responding...maybe her brain wasn't even really sending those signals. Nothing felt sure anymore. For all Rossy knew, she was having an out-of-body experience right now, watching herself debate whether or not pressing in for a kiss was a good idea...

...she didn't have to watch for long.

Millie smiled back, then pulled her hands free and stood up from her stool, placing them around Rossy's shoulders to embrace her in a hug before placing a gentle kiss upon her silicon cheek. Rossy hugged back, consciously keeping her hands just above Millie's waist, but unable to resist giving her neck a soft smooch.

Part of her felt disappointed that her mechanical limbs couldn't feel the warmth of Millie's body, nor smell her perfume, or savor the lingering taste of skin on her lips...but her brain at least remembered what a hug was supposed to feel like, and pulsed gently with that familiar wave of comfort and excitement nonetheless. Physical human contact might never be the same for Rossy, but sharing A Moment together was an experience not even a cyborg could forget.

A Moment frozen flawlessly in time, etched eternally into her electronic memory.

"...get a room, jesus," a familiar, catty voice cut in from just a little further down the bar.

They both shot venomous glances down toward the perpetrator, the spritely and barely legal stripper next door, Irina. Neither had even seen her sit down.

"No rooms left with all that sass you're carrying," Millie spit back, returning to her stool. Rossy took some small measure of comfort in the fact that she too was upset over the moment ending. "What are you still doing here, isn't it past your bedtime?"

"Cute," Irina said, wrinkling her nose. "I'm just here to ask our boss if I can stay late to use the practice room, since apparently being the lowest rung on the employee ladder means everybody else gets to take all the good time slots."

"Work here long enough and you can live in there if you want," came the grumbling voice of her boss from beyond the counter, probably counting dollar bills.

"Psh," she replied in disgust, pulling her hair out from under the collar of her black denim half-jacket and into a ponytail. "No offense Sergey, but I don't plan to 'live' here any longer than it takes me to save up enough money to fly the coop."

He grunted in response and resumed balancing his till, jotting numbers on a piece of notebook paper as if he didn't trust calculators.

"Wow, you don't beat around the bush, do you?" said Millie, unimpressed.

"Don't see the point, really," she replied, slicking her eyebrow with one finger. "I made it very clear when I took this job that I wasn't here to make a career out of this shit."

"...says the girl who's staying late to practice her routines," Rossy put in, if only because she felt like riling her up.

Irina shrugged, rolling her eyes. "You'll never make ANY money if your dance routine sucks. I'm just saying, doin' a little wiggle-jiggle up on stage with no clothes on has GOT to be the most demeaning way possible to earn a buck."

"Agree to disagree, but please, go on," said Millie, crossing her leg and folding her hands in mock interest.

Irina seemed up to the challenge tonight. "C'mon, I'm eighteen and even I know that stripping isn't where the REAL money is. It's just a way to get you into college. Think about how much MORE we could be bringing in if we did more than just dance for our dinner."

Both ladies raised an eyebrow back at her.

"I mean think about it, how much would you pay for a night with someone like me?" she asked, vaguely outlining her conventionally inappropriate places. "Better money, more dignified than dancing like a damn fool, and hell, you bang someone VIP enough, they might even offer you like, a secretary job at some cushy corporate office or something! Doesn't that sound so much easier, so much more WORTH IT than to constantly degrade yourself up on a stage for the amusement of a bunch of horny old men?"

For a few moments, silence reigned. Not a one of them seemed willing to cross that bridge, not even never-censored Millie. She seemed to be struggling with a thought behind that disconnected frown on her face. Rossy found herself less shocked that Irina was apparently all for prostitution, and more shocked that her ideas about it were so entrepreneurial and business-like. And then speaking of business, Sergey remained stonefaced, pencilling in another set of numbers without missing a beat.

Finally, if only to break the silence, Rossy cut back in with, "...well, sucks for you then, you just missed a night of so-called easy money with some sales exec for a major cybernetics company."

Irina's expression fell right off her face. "...what? For real?"

Rossy nodded back. "He was meeting with some programmer to discuss buying out an app she was working on or something. That's why the practice room was booked for the evening."

Now the girl just looked straight-up mad. "What the fuck, Sergey? You should've told me, I could've come in early and gotten him started with a lap dance or something!"

"No hands-on stuff," he muttered back with a razor sharp glance in her direction. "You know the rules."

"Well why NOT?" Irina huffed back. "I'm not gonna be eighteen forever, think about all the extra tip money I could be missing out on! Hell, think of the extra money YOU could be missing out on, Sergey! For fuck's sake, you run a strip club with motel rooms, and you never thought to monetize on that? People could catch a show in one room, then take their favorite dancer to bed with them for a night! Don't you WANT to make money?"

"I make enough," he replied in a voice Rossy guessed was sharpened by sleep deprivation. "And we sell entertainment here. Look-but-don't-touch. Got it?"

"Whatever," she sighed, shaking her head. "I guess I'm at least making enough to get myself into college...but I swear to god, such a missed opportunity."

Sergey finally broke away from his notebook to look her in the eye. "So what, you gonna quit on me? Go start up a brothel across the street and put me out of business?"

Irina tried to stare back at him, but eventually broke contact to look over at Rossy, then at Millie, who still seemed to be looking at a thought inside her own head, and crossed her arms, defeated. "...no, I guess I'm staying here."

"Noted," he replied, neatly zipping up the day's earnings into a safe bag and returning to his back room. "Good night, Irina."

Grumbling to herself, Irina slid off her stool and headed for the front door. Rossy watched her go, wondering how someone so young had already become so cynical and businesslike. Then she turned back to Millie, currently staring down at the extremely fascinating patterns on the carpet.

"...you okay?" she asked, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Millie half-smiled and acknowledged her. "Yeah, it's just...well, it's nothing, really…".

Rossy didn't need a bullshit detection app, though someone had probably tried to write one for her at some point. "That definitely means it IS something, and I'm guessing it was probably something she said."

She made a half-chuckle to match the half-smile. "...she just...dug up some old memories for me...conversations with my parents, mostly…".

That comment definitely got flagged for review and added to Rossy's To-Do list. "Well, you probably know by now, but you can always talk to me about it. You know...if you want to."

Millie placed a grateful hand over hers, but Sergey cut in before she could reply. "Closing time. If you're gonna keep talking, you need to take it to your room, Rossy."

She felt a corner of her brain light up at the thought of taking Millie to her motel room.

But Millie was already getting up. "I should probably go anyway. Don't want to be out too late in nothing but an evening dress, you know."

The Moment was ending. "...sure you don't want to talk about it?"

"No, I think you've unlocked enough backstory for one evening," Millie replied with an elbow to the rib. "...but I'll be sure to remember that for another time."

Rossy stood up and gave her the warmest smile her cybernetic face could manage to display. "Looking forward to our next date, then."

Something in Millie's eyes had changed. Where earlier it looked like she'd been holding back a fog of anger or fear, it had now been replaced with relief, maybe even joy. A ray of sun was breaking through, and it was shaped like a grin.

"Then I guess I'll see you around, Rossy," she said, with one last peck on the cheek.


	11. DRM Stands For Dirty Rotten Motherf--

_ ALRIGHT, FINE, I'M AWAKE. Y0U HAPPY N0W? _

"Jesus, it's about time," Rossy snapped back. "The show's about to start. I thought you'd already be camped out and stocked up on popcorn by now."

As she waited for Zhou to type his response, she activated her microphone and maximized the sensitivity, taking the same "too-cool-for-you" pose as she had yesterday; leaned against the wall just outside the practice room door, one leg raised like a flamingo, arms crossed, and hat pulled down over her eyes. Equal parts aloof, mysterious, intimidating, and just a little bit ridiculous.

_ Just the way I like it…  _ she told herself with a nod of approval.

_ AWW, H0W SWEET. THE CYB0RG IS L00KING 0UT F0R THE CREEPY V0ICE INSIDE HER HEAD. Y0U'RE T00 KIND, R0SSY. _

"Right, as if I'm doing this for you," she snorted back, noting that he was still using the corrected spelling of her name. "I just need you on hand to keep me apprised on how dangerous for me these guys might be. I only need you here for threat assessment."

_ These guys…  _ she repeated to herself.  _ More of them now. Not only do I have to worry about the hair gel cyborg salesman and the sarcastic hacker kid, now they've got Javier's 'security guy' with him, and let's be honest, that guy scares me… _

Javier's other business associate - the security expert who couldn't make it to last night's meeting - was a stone-faced, broad-shouldered man named Lukas who apparently specialized in network encryption, security protocols, and silent intimidation. His hair was a dusty taupe color, buzzed just one step shy of bald, and gave him the impression of wearing a dark hood over his otherwise pasty skin. Thick salt-and-pepper eyebrows loomed over his dark and lifeless eyes, and he wore a long tan hide jacket just like a bona fide badass villain in a crime drama movie.

One look at him made Rossy really wonder whether "security guy" meant data encryption or hired muscle. As a "security guy" herself, she had her doubts the guy was just any ordinary key-puncher.

_ 0H YEAH, THAT REMINDS ME. I DID S0ME DIGGING 0N 0UR FRIEND JAVIER AND F0UND S0ME VERY JUICY DETAILS. _

"Such as…?"

Pause.

_ WELL, N0THING I CAN TELL Y0U, MIND Y0U. MY J0B IS VERY SH0W-D0N'T-TELL, Y0U KN0W THAT. _

"Then what good are you to me?"

Pause.

_ N0 TIME T0 GET CUTE. LET'S HEAR WHAT THE B0Z0 SQUAD HAS T0 SAY THIS TIME. _

Rossy nodded and pulled up the text of the active recording session on her virtual overlay, and began following along from the top.

 

* * *

 

"Priya," Javier announced, gesturing toward her, then to his guest, "I'd like you to meet Lukas Schreiber, the 'security guy' I was telling you about the other day."

Timidly, Priya nodded back, hoping the security guy wouldn't see her nervous gulp from behind her laptop screen. "Pleasure to meet you," she managed to mumble back.

Lukas gave her a vague, upward jerk of his chin that he probably thought of as a nod. "...huh. Can't say this is ANYTHING like what I was expecting."

Despite her intimidation, Priya bristled. "...what, you were expecting someone taller?"

"Older," he replied, resting his palms on the table. "You're pretty young for an app developer. Where'd Javier pick you up, Barrinten High?"

"Well, I'm no younger an app developer than you're older a security specialist," she fired back automatically, before her brain-to-mouth filter had a chance to kick in. "Truth is stranger than fiction, after all."

The words left an icy silence behind them as Lukas failed to smile at her joke. Priya couldn't tell if his blank stare meant he was offended or enraged.

_...hmm, it might be best to assume this guy hates humor and sarcasm and is entertaining some grisly thoughts of taking me out back to chop me into tiny bloody pieces. _

Fortunately, Javier was a gracious moderator and took the reigns. "Well, frankly, I think young folks tend to make better innovators. They deal with more realistic, down-to-earth problems than stuffy suits like me do, and you know the old saying, right? Mothers are the necessity of invention. If mom can't do something, leave it to her kids to figure out how to fix it."

Lukas finally cracked just enough to raise an eyebrow at him. "...IS that what they say?"

"Alright fine," Javier sighed, rolling his eyes and finally taking his seat on Priya's side of the table. "The POINT is, Priya wrote the software, I WANT the software, and YOU'RE going to make sure it's on par with Phantom's - hmm, shall I say…'notorious'...? - security protocols. That's the business tonight."

Taking one last pointed glance at Priya, Lukas sat up straight and nodded. "Okay. Show me the app."

Priya placed her fingers on home keys, then hesitated. "...do you want me to show you the product demo so you understand what it's about, or do you just want to see the raw code?"

"Give it to me raw," he said, without a single trace of irony. "And just give me the oral version of the demo."

She tapped the Enter key, flipped the screen around, and pushed the laptop his way, circling through a quick series of immature thoughts about his choice of words before launching into the demo.

"...right," she said, pausing to take a deep breath, pushing all humorous and inappropriate thoughts away. "So essentially, CSL is an app that runs on the Phantom operating system that's installed on each cybernetic eye. I figured since the eyes are pretty much the only hardware that already have a built-in visual interface, that'd be the easiest place to work with the code for it."

"So you wrote and tested this on an actual Phantom eye, then?" Lukas cut in, pulling the laptop toward him. "You got one installed?"

"No, my dad has one."

He raised an eyebrow. "And he let YOU hack into it?"

She blinked back the urge to frown. "What? I was careful. I'm always careful. I didn't do anything unless I was sure it was exactly what I needed to do. I like to think I'm pretty meticulous about following directions."

Javier's eyebrow raised as well. "...following directions?"

_...shit. _

Priya's face flushed hard. "I mean...well, I told you yesterday, I had a LITTLE help hacking some of the main operating system stuff. Just some...y'know, tools I found online. Just to unlock the tools and processes I wanted to use with it."

She couldn't look either of the men in the eye as neither of them spoke. They just stared back at her for a hard, silent moment, as if weighing the implications of her statement. She tried to find something else in the room to focus on, anything, but it just wasn't a particularly decorated room. It didn't even have the spellbinding designs on the carpet. She felt her breath quicken.

_...say something, _ her brain urged.  _ Tell them to stop staring at you, or keep the conversation moving. You can't just sit here. Say ANYTHING! There are two intimidating, terrifying men twice your size and probably three times your age STARING at you silently in a closed room after you just confessed to BREAKING THE LAW, and if you don't keep this conversation moving, you're going to start hyperventilating, and they'll take it as proof you're a criminal, and you'll get arrested, and then you'll be taken to prison and YOU'LL DIE. SAY SOMETHING!!! _

"Boy this sure would be a lot easier to explain if we had a Phantom eye handy," she blurted out with half a laugh, if only to combat her own crushing anxiety. "I'm sure once you see it in action you'll understand exactly what I was going for."

Lukas frowned and finally sighed. "I don't care what you're going for, I'm here to make sure you're doing it in a safe and secure way."

"I think," Javier interrupted, putting a palm up towards him, "...what Priya is saying is that it is what it is right NOW, and we don't need to pick apart what it IS, but figure out what it needs to make it what it will BECOME. Does that make sense?"

Lukas gave him some kind of dirty look, but seemed to understand, and nodded back.

Priya slowly exhaled, letting her stomach fall back into place.  _ Good, that's more or less what I was going to say, though I probably would've worded it better. If you'd let me get that far, anyway. God, why do men always have to be so intimidating? _

Lukas may have understood, but still wasn't satisfied. "So...what, then? You called me out here to advise security on a project that isn't even finished yet?"

"Think of it as...helping us draw up a game plan for the revised product," Javier replied coolly, gesturing to the laptop. "Walk through the whole process from setup to execution with Priya, and point out where you think the vulnerable parts of the software are, so we can come up with a system that adheres to our standards, without sacrificing the functionality Priya intended to include."

_...yeah, what he oh-so-graciously said for me _ .

All that got out of Lukas was a grunt and a resigned sigh. "Fine. Let's take a look. What's first?"

Priya did her best to take a deep, non-shaky breath, sucking in her stomach and puffing out her chest as Lukas scrolled idly through the first few lines of the code. "Alright...so what you're currently looking at is every snippet of code I've written for this project. I know it's probably sloppy to keep it all in one file like that, but I haven't exactly had time to play around with it since I made the download available."

"Just tell me what I'm looking at," he grumbled back, frowning at what amounted to nothing more than chicken scratch from his point of view.

"...right," she said, deflating a bit. "So, every time you run the app this first part here just checks your network for any cybernetic eyes, so it can establishes a connection with whichever one you want it to. I mostly just wrote it to make installing the app easy. It literally only looks for Phantom eyes."

"How?" Lukas cut in, glancing over at her from just over the lid of the laptop screen. "What protocol is it using to check for eyes?"

There was a moment's apprehension before Priya forced herself to cough out the answer. "...w-well, the, uh...the program sends out a query over the network, and it...well, it's querying for the...um, basically the whole range of hardware IDs that Phantom eyes can possibly have…".

This earned her another icy stare. Even Javier seemed to be giving her the eyebrow.

"I know, I know," she stammered, palms automatically raising in surrender, "...like I said, it's sloppy, I know. I kinda rushed that part to get it out of the way and never got around to fixing it."

Lukas shook his head disdainfully. "Major security flaw right there. Not even two lines into the code and I'm already flaggin' shit? This is gonna be a long fuckin' night at this rate...".

"Well I hope you're at least getting paid by the hour then," Priya couldn't stop herself from replying. She felt her ears steam up with a rush of blush when she realized she hadn't said that in the safe confines of her brain.

Before Lukas could deliver another bladed retort, Javier took the reigns and leaned in closer, pulling the laptop his way. "Well, at least I can tell what you were going for. The old shotgun approach, just blast the network with a request for the entire range of hardware IDs and see what responds, so you don't even have to KNOW what your hardware ID is to be able to connect to the eye. Crude execution, but very user-friendly. I like that."

Priya was astonished that Javier had nothing to say about Lukas's very unprofessional F-bomb, but felt relieved that he seemed to still be on her side nonetheless. The steam began to vent from her ears. "...well, um...th-thanks. And yeah, like I said, I know it's sloppy, but it was just a shortcut. We can totally fix it in the final product."

"Gonna NEED to fix it," Lukas grumbled, drumming his fingers on the table.

Javier didn't respond immediately, and seemed to be studying the code. Priya wondered if he knew how to actually read it, or if he were just trying to give her the impression that he was a very well-read businessman and that she'd better be telling him the whole truth because he'd know if she wasn't...

_ Oh, come on Priya, what kind of sense does that make?  _ she scolded herself.  _ He doesn't need to put on a front like that to intimidate you, and I bet bet he know it. He's got to know that. Between him and his creepy drug-dealer-looking friend over here, I'm surprised I haven't already pissed my pants. _

Without even realizing, she inconspicuously ran a hand down her thigh just to be sure.

Javier suddenly snapped back to life, looking up from the screen. "...oh, sorry, I didn't mean to derail the conversation or anything. Just wanted to see what it looks like when someone writes an app using my own company's proprietary hardware IDs without asking me first."

Priya gave a nervous chuckle in response. "Heh...yeah, sorry about that…".

He held up a hand as if it were no big deal, then pushed the laptop back toward Lukas with a flourish. The screen flashed in response.

"Oh...oops…" he added, quickly pulling his hand away. "Think I just hit a button by accident."

Now it was his turn to received an icy stare from Lukas. "...did you just run the application?"

Javier shrugged. "...sorry. Like I said, it was an accident."

But Priya had been watching him closely, as a watcher of people often does. He didn't know that she knew what she saw. He couldn't know.

_ That definitely wasn't an accident. _

 

* * *

 

_ WHAT THE FUCK? _

"Hm?" Rossy flipped back to the chat. "What's wrong, you spill your beer or something?"

She pulled the brim of her hat back to look back down the hallway. She'd already lost track of time and forgotten she was on the clock. Well, okay, she hadn't REALLY lost track of time, not when she had a glowing digital clock available on her virtual overlay at all times, but still.

_ S0RRY, SPEECH-T0-TEXT MUST HAVE PICKED THAT UP. D0N'T W0RRY AB0UT IT. _

"Oh come on Zhou, now I HAVE to worry about it," she replied, pushing herself back into a standing position. "That's exactly what people say when it's something they should be worried about."

Pause.

_ HEY, Y0U'RE JUST STANDING THERE BY Y0URSELF, RIGHT? THERE'S N0B0DY ELSE IN THE HALL WITH Y0U? _

She felt her fist clench. "...yeah? Just me and the voice inside my head."

Pause.

...but Zhou didn't respond this time.

She added, "...why? You gonna jack into my body and test my systems or something?"

Pause.

...but still no reply.

Rossy felt an internal fan kick on in her stomach. "...yo, answer me. What the hell are you talking about, Zhou?"

Pause.

Then, finally:

_ SHUT UP. I CAN'T TR0UBLESH00T WHEN Y0U'RE NAGGING ME LIKE THIS. _

"Troubleshoot?" Now she was on her feet, alert and ready for action. "That's not a word you use when you're telling me not to worry about something. What's going on, Zhou? I want an answer. NOW."

No reply.

"Is it something to do with what they're talking about in there?" she pressed, more urgently this time. "Do you know something about them that I don't?"

_...stupid question, Rossy. Of COURSE he knows something you don't. He's ALWAYS known something you don't. And he can't tell you because his job is literally to be ambiguous and to keep you in the dark. _

She was just about to follow up when he finally texted back:

_ ALRIGHT FINE, SINCE IT MAY C0NCERN Y0UR SAFETY, I'LL TELL Y0U. BUT 0NLY A LITTLE. _

"Okay, fine, just get to the damn point!"

Pause.

_ W0W, PUSHY...L00K, JUST STAY ALERT F0R N0W. WHATEVER S0FTWARE THEY'RE USING IN THERE MIGHT HAVE JUST MADE FIRST C0NTACT WITH Y0URS. _

Rossy felt her hardware tighten. "...they what?"

 

* * *

  
"Huh, would you look at that," Priya noted, daring to scoot over to Lukas's side of the table so she could get a better view of the screen. "We got a response! Looks like someone in the building has a valid Phantom eye we could install the app on!"

"What, just like that?" Lukas asked, making eye contact with her ass, then her eyes, as if telling her that didn't belong where she'd set it down. She chose not to comment on it.

"Like I said, I wrote it quick and dirty," she replied, pulling the laptop closer. "I guess if nothing else, this at least proves that it works, right?"

"More importantly," Javier interrupted, seemingly proud of what he'd "accidentally" done, "...it proves that there's someone on the premises with a valid hardware ID."

Priya shot him a look of concern. "...'more importantly'?"

He nodded back. "For a couple of reasons."

"I can name at least two," Lukas offered, if only to be included. "One, it means what you've got here is dangerous. This thing's going straight for the hardware ID, breezing right past any OS-level security. So if YOU can make an app that'll reach out and touch any cyber eye in the vicinity at the push of a button, then some malware company out in Bumfuckistan is probably already figuring out a way to use it on unsuspecting old ladies who click every link you send 'em."

This time Priya gave him a pouty lip. "Yeah, but I told you we can fix that. This isn't final draft material here, it's just something that WORKS as I wanted it to. Ease of access first, security and polish after. Isn't that how all great apps start out?"

Lukas scowled, but Javier waved it off and came to her defense. "...yeah, I did more or less sign off on that yesterday. You're not wrong, Priya…".

Her eyes narrowed, waiting for him to show his 'but…'. "Okay, then what's number two?"

Both men remained silent for a moment, and the entire room seemed to take a deep breath. Priya felt her whole body shrink as both sets of eyes locked onto hers.

"Number two," Lukas repeated, folding his hands together carefully, "...is less a question of security, and more a question of...morality."

Her head tilted a degree to the right. "...morality? What are you talking about?"

Javier nodded. "You told me last night about how you swiped the hardware and electronic IDs for all Phantom products from some set of cracking tools you 'found on the internet', remember? You used whatever tools you had available to make your own little something out of someone else's something."

He seemed to leave the words hanging, as if he expected her to produce an answer out of them. She felt her mouth open and close once or twice before her voice found its way back out. "...I...o-okay? Yeah? And? What's that have to do with morality?"

Javier raised an eyebrow, then turned to his associate. Lukas unfolded his fingers to crack his knuckles. "You hacked up someone else's software to make your own software, designed it to bypass all its security measures, then sold it for a profit."

The entire room slowed down to a stop as the words finally lined up inside her mind. She understood now. She was being confronted. Accused.

Priya felt her heart freeze up in her chest, so cold that it burned like fire. She couldn't feel herself breathing. Both Javier and Lukas were staring back at her as she saw herself begin to float up and out of her body.

And then Javier turned his head and added, clear as crystal, "...you do realize we could sue you for copyright infringement, don't you?"

 

* * *

 

_ FUCK. _

"Again?" Rossy asked, turning her attention back to the chat window. "What now?"

Pause.

_ I KNEW THAT NAME S0UNDED FAMILIAR. _

"What name?!" she demanded. "Talk to me, you asshole! If you expect me to play it safe then I need to at least know who to stay away from!"

Pause.

_ ALRIGHT, LISTEN. I ALREADY T0LD Y0U THIS JAVIER GUY MIGHT BE BAD NEWS, BUT I CAN'T BELIEVE I DIDN'T MAKE THE C0NNECTI0N EARLIER. STAY THE HELL AWAY FR0M THAT GUY, Y0U HEAR ME? _

Rossy frowned and cocked her head. "Javier? You sure you don't mean the hacker girl? Or the other guy? I'm gettin' some serious serial killer vibes from the security guy…".

Pause.

_ N0. I MEANT WH0 I SAID. JAVIER IS BAD NEWS, R0SSY. _

"But WHY?" she insisted, stomping a foot on the ground.

Pause.

_ Y0U KN0W I CAN'T TELL Y0U. I'M PAID T0 BE CRYPTIC AND MYSTERI0US. BUT I'LL BET IF Y0U L00K CL0SELY EN0UGH AT THAT TRANSCRIPT, Y0U'LL FIGURE 0UT WHY. _

She let out a sigh and flipped back to the transcript, still actively recording. "Cool, thanks for nothing."

_ Alright, what exactly am I expecting to find here? _ she asked herself, scrolling back up through the recorded conversation.  _ Zhou seems to think the cyborg salesman is the dangerous one, but he won't say why...and in all the time we've been traveling together, I've never seen him act quite this weird about...well, anything. So it's gotta be something pretty big to have him this spooked… _

_...but what would it take to spook a mysterious text message ghost whose only purpose in life is to make sure I'm working off my debt for being given this cyber body? _

From what she could tell, most of the conversation going on in the other room was standard business meeting bullshit, like a bunch of lawyers arguing the details in a courtroom drama. Javier really seemed to be nothing more than a standard-issue straight-arrow businessman interested in nothing more than marketing and money-making.

_...and that's supposed to be dangerous somehow? Dangerous to a carbon-fiber frame body with the hitting power of a half-ton wrecking ball? What's a puny little corporate suit gonna do, smack me across the face with a fat stack of cold hard cash? _

A light came on overhead. Figuratively, anyway.

_...does Zhou think Javier might try to sell me something? _ she pondered, paying close attention to keep her thoughts inside her organic brain, where speech-to-text couldn't pick them up and transmit them back to Zhou.  _ The guy sells robot limbs for a living, but they're talking about APPS in there, too. What other kinds of limbs and apps could this guy potentially have access to? GPS tracking? Security software? Some kind of app that would cut him off and lock him out of my head? _

She savored the thought for a moment before reality settled back in.

_ What, he's just going to have an app like that on hand? Come on, Rossy...even if he had something like that, there's no way in hell you'd be able to afford it. Remember, you're already in infinite debt for this body they gave you, and the only spending money you ever get is barely enough for a pair of underwear. Zhou has an iron grip on your bank account, and even if you asked Javier nicely, you'd never even get the words out of your mouth before Zhou would just jump in and shut you down or whatever. _

_...but if that's the case, then why is Zhou still afraid of this guy? What else could he have that Javier would be a danger to? _

She crossed her arms automatically, mechanical limbs unable to differentiate subconscious body language commands from conscious ones.

_...Zhou said his job is to steer me towards money so I can pay the Doctor back what I owe, and to keep me from knowing anything else about it. So if money's not the issue, then maybe it's something Javier knows? _

_ Well, he IS a cyborg salesman, right? He sells what I'm made of, and he definitely knows his product. Even asked if I had cybernetic legs based solely on how I look when I walk. He's gotta be pretty damn knowledgeable, so…what? He might be able to tell me something that Zhou doesn't want me to find out? _

_ Something about my body… _

Her thoughts clicked into place.

_...and the hacker girl who can apparently talk to it? _

 

* * *

 

"...n-no, I didn't...I, I wasn't…th-this still counts as fair use, doesn't it?!" Priya's eyes flicked rapidly from side to side as she instinctively grabbed the edge of the table, fingernails pressing into it hard enough to leave marks.

"It's not 'fair use' when you sell someone else's code with a little bit of your own slapped on top," Lukas replied severely.

In spite of her bubbling fear, she managed to frown back. "No, I wrote all that code myself! I hand-wrote the entire program and only copied the electronic IDs for movement commands!"

"But you wrote it using the Phantom OS language," Javier chimed in calmly, the Good Cop to Lukas's Bad Cop. "That's proprietary code."

She stared back in confusion, muscles clenched tightly as she tried not to let any tears form up. "...b-but that doesn't make sense! I used the code in a completely different way than anything else written in the operating system! I didn't copy anything!"

Lukas scoffed, palms on the table. "What, we gotta explain this in black and white now?"

"Maybe you'd better let me do it," Javier nudged in, politely. Inasmuch as a sales executive can nudge politely, that is.

"Guess you'd better," Lukas agreed with a disgruntled sigh. "You told me we were meeting with a professional, not a fucking kid."

He received a pointed glare in response, then Javier turned back to Priya, taking a deep breath before addressing her calmly once again. "...Priya, do you know how Digital Rights Management works?"

_ Digital Rights Management...oh yeah, THAT'S what DRM stands for. I'm too used to thinking it stands for Dirty Rotten Motherf--shit, this is no time for sarcasm, I need to focus! _

She brushed the thought away, then nodded back. "Well...yeah, it's like a...security thing that prevents people from copying or unlocking stuff, right? Digital stuff, I mean. Like when you have to put in a product key to activate software you purchased."

"Mostly, yes," he nodded back.

"Okay, but I didn't break any DRM rules either!" she insisted, gripping the edge of the table even tighter. "I have a licensed copy of the OS, I paid money for it and made sure to activate it and everything!"

"That's not the part I could sue you for," he replied, calm as a pond in winter. "Our copyright extends to the use of each individual codeword. Every command in every line of code that can be processed by a Phantom operating system is under copyright protection according to the rights granted to us by the DRM we employ."

Priya felt a sharp stab just above her heart, like a bony knuckle drilling its way into her chest. Her brain was still processing the words as her fingers continued to scrape against the edge of the table, the only things keeping her spirit tethered to her body at this point. She wanted to cough out a response, say something more in her defense, but every imaginary interaction she could think of ended with her being sued and locked in a jail cell for copyright infringement. She felt her lunch crawling its way back up her throat.

"Tell you what," Javier continued, lowering his voice even more. "I don't much care for legal battles. Maybe I don't even have to sue you at all. Maybe...we can just work things out, right here and right now, so we don't even have to go through any of that legal baloney."

The world solidified again for a moment, and Priya looked up at him, still frozen in place. He didn't even look angry.

"You sure you don't want to drag her through at least a LITTLE legal baloney?" Lukas put in, arms crossed. He sounded almost offended.

Javier stood up straight and tossed a gesture Priya's way. "Let's do a quick little test. We'll run your code on some real Phantom hardware, do a sort of live demo kind of thing, and if it works, you can hand over the keys to me right away. Tonight, even. I can have my girls down in legal draw up a standard buy contract and email it to my phone. I'll sign it, you'll sign it, and Lukas will be the witness. That's a standard business transaction if I've ever seen one, and it'll save us all a fortune in legal fees and hopefully mop up any potential bad blood we might have otherwise left on the floor. Sound good?"

Priya sat there blankly, riding the wake of his words as she slowly released her death grip on the table. Her breath steadied and her heart resynchronized. She finally found the voice of her thoughts again and took half a moment to listen to herself.

_...he's...really making me an offer I can't refuse here, isn't he? I can't believe I didn't catch on quicker. He was stringing me along the whole way, just waiting for an opportunity to trip me up. Now he's backed me into a corner and even got a straight-up confession out of me, so now all the shots are HIS to call, and I, the Observant Watcher that I am, somehow missed all the cues? _

_...or no, maybe he's just THAT good. Yeah, let's go with that. _

She sighed aloud. "...well, at this point, I don't really have much choice left, do I?"

Javier nodded, then managed a smile. "Alright then. Just a simple test."

Priya felt her muscles finally relax. Her stomach finally puffed back up to normal size as she exhaled. But then she frowned.

"...so...what, then, we're just installing the app on some random cyber eye? Did you bring an extra one?"

"I didn't think to, sadly," he replied, shaking his head.

She gave him a studious glance. "...do you HAVE one? Like, installed?"

He couldn't resist a half-smile at that one. "Unfortunately, no again. I sell the stuff, but I'm still all flesh and blood up here...what about you?"

"My dad's the one with the eye, not me."

Her turned his head. "Lukas?"

"No."

"Hmm," said Javier, apparently to nobody this time. He stood up tall once more and steepled his fingers together, looking up at the ceiling. "So nobody in the room has a cybernetic eye for us to test with...and yet when I accidentally ran the program, we got a ping response, didn't we?"

_...ahh… _

"So," he continued, pacing his way toward the door, "...why don't we ask around and see if anyone here DOES have an eye we can borrow?"

 

* * *

 

_ R0SSY, M0VE AWAY. N0W! _

Rossy felt a flash of cortisol roll across her brain as the door she was leaning up against to better hear the hushed voices inside suddenly opened inward. She quickly thrust a foot down to compensate, looking for a moment like a bodyguard desperate to find a bathroom before she recovered and stood up straight once again.

"Hello Rossybelle," said Javier, apparently unfazed by her eavesdropping stance. "Sorry to bother you, but could you join us in here for a moment? We were just talking about you."


	12. They're Just Phantom Limbs

"...excuse me?"

Javier gestured politely for her to enter. "Sorry to bother you, Rossybelle, I know you're very busy standing out there in the hall by yourself."

That earned him a snort, but Rossy remained in the doorway, still unsure if she should enter the questionably shady back room full of people staring expectantly at her like she was some kind of half-robot hybrid woman in an 80s tribute band. "...right. So, uh...what can I do for you?"

"Are you sure you don't want to come in and sit down?" he offered, splaying a hand toward the empty spot next to Lukas. "This is kind of important and may take a while."

A red flag shot up in her brain. Apparently, a red flag also appeared in the chat window on the edge of her vision. Zhou appeared to be "typing". She had already gauged what was going on through her recorded speech-to-text eavesdropping, but nobody else in the room knew that, so she figured she'd better play along for now.

"...that sounds...cryptic," she commented, giving him a sharp-eyed look. "But sure, I guess I really do have nothing better to do."

A message appeared as she took her seat.

_ R0SSY, D0 N0T. I D0N'T WANT Y0U ENGAGING WITH THESE GUYS. IF I'M READING THE SITUATI0N RIGHT, THEY C0ULD SPELL BIG TR0UBLE F0R THE B0TH 0F US. _

Even though he'd already seen her on the way in, Lukas gave Rossy another once-over, as if her being taller than him was more intimidating than her unusual attire. He turned back to Javier expectantly.

Taking a moment to acknowledge each person in the room, with all eyes trained on him, Javier cleared his throat and continued. "So Rossybelle, you lied to me."

She blinked, then cocked her head sideways; organic body language she couldn't unlearn, even in a mechanical body. "...which lie are you talking about?"

Priya snickered to herself, but kept her eye on Javier. If he was catching someone else in a lie tonight, then she wanted to see him in action this time and study the technique she'd missed earlier. He replied with a fake half-smile, "...looking back on it, maybe it wasn't a 'lie' so much as it was a...let's call it a 'convenient withholding of the truth'."

"...that doesn't much narrow it down for me, Javier," said Rossy, patiently. "I am by nature a very mysterious person."

_ UGH, G0D, THAT S0UNDS S0 D0UCHEY C0MING FR0M S0ME0NE IN A RED FED0RA AND A ZEBRA-STRIPE T0P... _

"Shut up," she fired back automatically, before realizing she was being heard by two separate audiences. "...a-and just tell me what lie you're talking about already."

"Yeah, I don't have all night," Lukas chimed in, like a rusted chime in sudden sandstorm.

Javier sighed, then regained composure, narrowly focusing on Rossy. "Alright, here's the situation. Priya wrote an application that works on my company's cybernetic body parts, and we need to test it...by installing the app on YOU."

_...well, fuck. So much for subtlety. _

"...on me?" she repeated, pointing to her heart.

"On your eye," he corrected, pointing to her eye.

"...you?" Priya joined in, pointing to Rossy's face. "You mean...you…? You've got cyborg parts in there?!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," she put her palms up in defense. "I-I...I didn't...that's not...don't put words in my mouth, I never said that--".

"Exactly," Javier interrupted, walking around Lukas toward her. "You never SAID that. I asked you about it, and you never actually answered me. Because you ARE a cyborg, aren't you?"

She had to focus hard to stop her brain from sending signals to her fists as he approached. She hated being accosted or accused like this. It made her feel guilty of something; a crime she hadn't committed. "...what's your point?"

"I knew it," he said, almost beaming with a certain oily pride. "I took one look at the way you walked, and the way you talked, and I could just TELL you weren't fully organic, Rossybelle. I know my product."

"Yes, okay, fine," she spit back, unable to stop her fingers from forming a fist. "...but what's your POINT?"

_ JESUS, CALM DOWN R0SSY, I T0LD Y0U N0T T0 ENGAGE. CHILL. _

"Relax," Javier agreed, staying just outside the acceptable personal bubble zone. "I don't want to hurt you or anything. I just wanted to confirm that I was reading you right."

"You got all THAT just from staring at her ass while she was walking down the hall?" Priya jumped in, more astonished at this point than scared.

"Not JUST her ass," he replied, then retraced his words and held up a finger to correct himself. "...bad phrasing, sorry. There were other 'tells' I noticed as well. As I said, I know my product, and I know what tiny differences and mannerisms cyber limbs give a person. You've got more than just a pair of mechanical legs, don't you, Rossybelle?"

She glared back at him, venting the heat buildup inside her body through flared nostrils. "Just tell me what the fuck you want."

He conceded, taking a step back. "Sorry, sorry. It's just...exciting to finally meet someone with as many cyber augments as you. I don't know if I've ever met anyone...more cybernetic…? - ...no, someone LESS ORGANIC - than you. You're more machine than flesh, aren't you?"

"Yes, Javier," she growled back, pushing herself back onto her feet. "Are there any other secrets about my life you'd like to make public? Any other stray observations you'd like to expand upon?"

_ R0SSY, I'M SERI0US. SHUT THE FUCK UP AND SIT BACK D0WN N0W, 0R I'M DEACTIVATING Y0U RIGHT HERE AND N0W! _

"I'd like to see you try!" she shouted back.

She was brought back into the moment by the crash of Lukas's chair on the ground as he stood up, arms at the ready. She glanced his way, then back at Javier, who seemed a lot smaller when he was standing back in surrender the way he was now. Realizing she herself had almost lunged at him just now, she exhaled, retracted her body back into her seat and placed her hands calmly back into her lap.

"...maybe I'll just stand for now," Lukas grumbled, kicking his chair under the table as he took point to lean beside the door in the exact same pose Rossy had adopted before entering the room.

Javier, shaken but trying to remain professional, straightened his business jacket and returned to the table, finally sitting back down. "...I'm sorry, Rossybelle. I didn't realize that would be such a point of contention for you. But I needed to confirm my...ehm, suspicions about you."

He took a breath and spoke a little louder now. "And now that I've done that, it's time to get down to business."

_...now that you've pissed me the fuck off and made me look like some kind of unreasonable, hot-headed mechanical freak, so you'll look calm and collected by comparison? _ she seethed back.  _ Don't think I don't see your game, asshole...now I have to be twice as careful with what I say. _

_ IS THIS GUY F0R REAL? HE'S LIKE A STRAIGHT-UP THEATRICAL VILLAIN. _

_...and you're not helping, _ she added, really wishing speech-to-text worked with thoughts as well.

"I'm the head of a cybernetics industry," Javier explained, as if Rossy hadn't been eavesdropping for the past two days. "I make functional artificial limbs that people can control with their brains. Very powerful, very complicated stuff here...".

"...and very expensive," he added, glancing in Priya's direction.

_ No shit, Sherlock. _

_ N0 SHIT, SHERL0CK. _

"Priya here has written an app that can apparently interface with my very powerful, very complicated, and very expensive hardware," Javier continued, regarding Priya with a certain smugness that might almost qualify as some kind of dirty pride. "...and we're--well, I should say, I'M convinced that her app is compatible with your hardware."

Some inexplicable light clicked on inside Rossy's head.

Priya seemed to light up as well. "...oh! That must mean YOU'RE the one who responded to the ping from earlier!"

"...huh?" was all she could ask.

"Javier 'accidentally' ran the application while we were examining the source code earlier," Priya explained, rolling her eyes. "And something connected to the wi-fi in this building responded as a valid installation point. That must have been you! Which, by extrapolation, can only mean...".

_ ALRIGHT R0SSY, I'M N0T KIDDING AR0UND ANYM0RE. I WANT Y0U 0UT 0F THERE, N0W. THESE GUYS SEEM T0 KN0W A LITTLE T00 MUCH AB0UT Y0U AND I D0 N0T LIKE WHERE THIS C0NVERSATI0N IS HEADED... _

"...you've got Phantom parts installed!"

Before she even knew why, Rossy quickly committed this information to memory - organic and digital memory alike - as if it were the single most important thing she'd learned in years.

_ Phantom Technologies...Phantom Cybernetics… _

_...oh, I get it. Phantom Limbs. That's cute, Javier. _

Clever wordplay aside, she had a manufacturer now. A name. She knew what to call the parts of her new body and where they came from.

_ And what was it Zhou had said before, about names? Once you can put a name to something, you have a box you can put it in. It's not a mystery anymore. It doesn't have that same power anymore. They're just Phantom Limbs… _

"Yes, thank you Priya," Javier resumed, pulling Rossy back into the moment. "Anyway, Rossybelle, my point is that we're in the middle of a very exciting business deal here, and I thought, since we have a confirmed Phantom user in the building, it might be a convenient opportunity for us to run a...shall we call it a 'live demo'?"

Rossy's Phantom eyes shifted to the right, then back toward him. "...that sounds suspiciously like corporate double-talk for something a little more insidious."

He chuckled, but not really. "I'd like to - with your permission, of course - install Priya's app on your eyes, just to prove to us that it works."

_ N0. ABS0LUTELY N0T, R0SSY. Y0U D0N'T EVEN KN0W WHAT THIS APP D0ES. Y0U NEED T0 GET 0UT 0F THERE. _

She felt her legs clench up, like she was getting ready to heed his warning, but something stopped her. She kept her eyes on Javier's. "...what kind of app?"

"It's a sign language app," Priya jumped in, eager to stay on topic and not to start floating outside her body again. "It lets you trigger a command using a pre-determined hand movement instead of using voice activation. Right now it just opens up the video recorder because that's all I've had time to make."

"Again, thank you, Priya," said Javier, a crack showing in his patience. "Now, I don't mean to sound pushy about it, Rossybelle, but as a businessman, I'd like an answer sooner rather than later, so I can sign the deal with Priya and move this deal along without any more fuss than their needs to be."

_ LAST CHANCE T0 BACK D0WN BEF0RE I HIT THE KILL SWITCH, R0SSY. _

"Then just do it already," she fired back, answering them both. She took a moment to acknowledge the stunned silence on Javier's face. "...look, I've honestly got better things to do than sit here and pose for your little experiments, Javier. Cyborg or not, I'm still a person, not just a convenient test subject. But frankly? If it'll get to stop invading my goddamn privacy, then fine, let's just do it and get it the fuck over with."

As she let him absorb the comment for another second, Rossy realized who else she'd answered with that statement and felt a sharp prick of imminent panic walk across her brain.  _ So is Zhou really gonna do it, then? Is the ghost over my shoulder finally gonna hit the kill switch like he keeps threatening to? And what, I'd just be sitting here deactivated in the back room of some strip club out in a dinky-ass mountain town, just like that? _

She waited.

Her body continued to stay activated.

_...hmph. Coward. Guess this means it was all a bluff, then. Then again, I probably wouldn't deactivate someone like me in front of a crowd either…especially in front of a cyborg salesman. Who knows what that might lead to… _

_...or maybe Zhou doesn't even HAVE a kill switch…? _

"Well?"

She blinked back into focus. "...sorry, what?"

Javier gestured patiently across the table to Priya, who waved shyly back, fingers in position on her keyboard. "If you're ready...?"

Rossy glanced back toward Javier, then back to Priya. "...yeah...so, what exactly do I need to DO for this little procedure?"

"Don't worry, you won't have to take off your clothes or anything," her young installation technician assured her. "...though I guess if you really feel like it, we're in the perfect venue for doing so."

She snorted in reply.

"But for real, you don't actually have to do anything," Priya continued, cracking her knuckles more out of dirty habit than general badassery. "We're both connected to the wi-fi in the building, so I'm already connected to you. I literally just have to point and click."

"Oh good, I was hoping you wouldn't need to jam a USB stick up my ass or anything like that," Rossy replied dryly.  _ Heh, guess Millie's sense of humor really IS rubbing off on me… _

Priya struggled to contain a sudden chuckle, her face disappearing behind her laptop screen. Javier sighed and ran a hand through his hair, his patience stretched thin. He glanced pitifully over toward Lukas for assistance, and got nothing but a cold, glassy stare in return. He regained his composure, made his way around the table, and sat down once more beside Priya.

"Okay, okay, okay," Priya continued, taking a deep breath as she settled down again, the jokes putting her mind back at ease. "I WOULD recommend that you lie down while we do the installation, though."

"Lie down?"

Priya nodded. "Like I said, this app is still kinda in its infancy, it's not designed to be super robust like all the other Phantom apps out there. I know it works, it's just...I don't want the program to get confused if you have multiple cybernetics installed on your...well, your whole body, I guess. How many DO you have, anyway?"

Rossy gave her a pointed stare. "...a lot," was the best answer she could come up with. She wondered why Zhou hadn't chimed in yet.

Priya opened her mouth, raised a finger, hesitated, then shrank back in her seat, "...sorry, guess that was kind of a personal question. But the point still stands, if you've got multiple pieces of Phantom hardware installed, I want to make sure I'm not gonna like, install the program on your arm, or something. Make sense?"

She raised an eyebrow, then shrugged. "I guess...but why do I need to lie down?"

"Well, I just, I mean…" Priya started, then paused, grasping at the air. The good feeling was already dissipating. "I just...don't want your brain to be sending signals to any other body parts while we're installing something on your eye. I haven't tested the program in an environment like that, where you've got multiple systems competing for a piece of your brain activity, and I don't want it to get confused or end up doing anything weird that I might be responsible for--I mean, uh...that might...y'know, damage your...uh, parts, or whatever…".

The atmosphere seemed to thicken again. Not that Rossy could physically experience that sensation anymore, but her brain told her it was happening nonetheless. She locked eyes with Priya, unmoving and unblinking. "...you sure you know what you're doing?"

"Don't look at me like that," Priya pleaded, putting her palms up in defense. "The program's totally safe, I just want to make sure it works correctly! ...y'know, for Javier's sake!"

Javier gave her a raised brow. She threw her hands in the air again, as if that was all she had to say on the matter. He shook his head and brushed it off, turning back toward Rossy. "I'm afraid you're just going to have to trust her, Rossybelle. She wrote the app specifically for Phantom hardware, and since your body replied, it's a guaranteed fit...".

He seemed to have something more to say, but trailed off in the middle of his own reply, brow furrowing as he ran the words through his head again.

Rossy's eyes shifted from face to face in the room. Something wasn't being said, and she didn't like it. She said so out loud.

Javier stared back, eyes hollow. "...Rossybelle, didn't you tell me the other day that you'd never heard of my company?"

She returned the stare, a skill she'd built well over the past year, by virtue of not needing to blink. "...so what if I haven't? Does that hurt little Javier's ego?"

He waited another few seconds to follow up. "...where'd you get your cybernetics outfitted?"

_ Don't I wish I knew, _ she thought back, grimly. "Oh, we're back to invading my privacy again, are we?"

"No more bullshit, Rossybelle," he continued, dead serious now. "You've clearly got Phantom hardware installed. Priya's app looks for cybernetic eyes with the same physical hardware IDs that Phantom products use. Those are regulated by trade laws, no other piece of mass-produced cybernetic equipment can have the same hardware ID, not without a lawsuit on their hands. I should know...".

Rossy turned her head to process the information, then glanced back at him impatiently. "...okay, and?"

Javier's eyes connected with Priya's, then back to Rossy's. If he were a villain, he might have grinned wickedly at this moment. "...I think we might have a lawsuit on our hands after all."

The words seemed to thicken the air in the room, if Priya's increased breathing was any indication. She glanced nervously from Javier to Lukas and back again. "...no...y-you said you weren't gonna sue me!"

He snapped his attention toward her. "Not you...but the same principle applies."

Rossy slammed a hand down on the table. "Then quit being vague and tell me what the hell's going on here!"

"Simple facts, Rossybelle," he replied, without missing a beat. "You're made of parts with Phantom hardware IDs, but you've never heard of Phantom and don't know who did the work on your body. That's way too unprofessional for a Phantom job. No, you're something else, aren't you?"

_...what...? _ She let her expression say the rest for her.

"If Priya can hack up my software and sell it as 'her own app'," he continued, eyes shifting from Priya back to Rossy, "...then what's to stop others from hacking up my HARDWARE, and selling that too?"

No one responded for a solid moment as he looked each of them in the eyes. He seemed to have made his point, but Rossy still wasn't connecting the dots. "...so...what, then? You saying I'm made of cheap knock-off parts?"

Javier scanned her up and down like she was a model on a showroom floor. "Essentially, yes. You're made of cybernetics that don't conform to my company's standards, but use the same base technology WE developed and patented. A generic-brand cyborg. You're a walking copyright infringement, Rossybelle."

_...0H, F0R FUCK'S SAKE. _

"Alright, hang on, back up," Rossy cut in, making a rewinding motion with her fingers. She was glad to see Zhou hadn't just dropped off the face of the earth, but this new development had muddied up some of the questions she thought she'd just gotten cleaned up. "How is any of this MY fault? I didn't tell the Doctor build me out of cheap-o, no-name body parts. I didn't infringe on nothin', you hear me?"

_ R0SSY, Y0U NEED T0 SHUT UP, N0W. Y0U CAN'T G0 AR0UND TELLING PE0PLE AB0UT H0W Y0U WERE BUILT, ESPECIALLY N0T THESE PE0PLE. _

"That's not entirely what I meant," Javier continued, pushing the matter aside. "As I already explained to Priya earlier, I'm not here to start a legal battle. Nobody's getting sued here. My company is big enough now that we've outgrown the old way of doing things."

Priya raised a brow, then jumped in, eager to contribute. "...the old way...hey that's right, wasn't Phantom kinda infamous for their legal battles a few years ago? People have been trying to make cheaper parts ever since you guys entered the game, but you always managed to shut them down on copyright battles and stuff, right?"

Javier's smile disappeared, but he maintained his calm demeanor. "We...did what we had to, to stay in the market. We were the first who pushed for consumer-grade cybernetics. We made the interfaces user-friendly. We got rid of all the military and industrial angles, tried to focus on what ordinary, everyday Joe Anybody wanted. We cornered the market on consumer cybernetics. And people STILL insisted on chopping it up and making it cheaper."

_...SHIT, THIS GUY IS WAY SMARTER THAN I GAVE HIM CREDIT F0R. R0SSY, PLEASE, I'M BEGGING Y0U, GET THE HELL 0UT 0F THERE WHILE Y0U STILL CAN. _

"I wanna hear how this ends first," Rossy replied out loud, then immediately reprimanded herself.  _ Ugh, I'm too used to speech-to-text...gotta remember to use the on-screen keyboard next time… _

He gave her a puzzled look, then shook it off and continued. "Well, as I was saying, we used to do legal battles with small 'generic-brand' companies to protect our copyright, but we don't need to anymore. Now we just look for hackers and copycats, like Priya here, and just buy them out."

All eyes turned expectantly toward Priya. She waved back sheepishly, still not entirely convinced she wasn't about to be sued. Or arrested. Or worse…

"We don't need to go on long DRM busts anymore," Javier carried on, seemingly wrapping up. "We just need to ferret out the people trying to profit off our products, prove they infringe on our copyrights to back them into a corner, then offer to buy them out instead. Most of the time they just end up working for us, making our products better and better. Pretty convenient way to skirt all that legal business, if you ask me."

Rossy took a moment to consider this. Javier made it sound like he was doing the world a favor, protecting the integrity of his own creations and allowing people to continue improving them as long as his company was the one ultimately profiting from it...

_...at the expense of more affordable options for people who still can't pay that kind of money, _ she added grimly.  _ Everything really is starting to fall into place, isn't it? I was made out of generic-brand parts by some no-name company flying under the radar, because I couldn't afford super fancy Phantom parts...and that must be why Zhou doesn't want me hanging around these guys. He's afraid of Javier sniffing them out and buying them up, and he didn't want me to figure this out because…? _

_...well, guess I'm still working on that part. _

She glanced over at Priya, nervously jiggling her leg and scrolling over something on her laptop screen. She glanced back at Lukas, still leaned against the door and writing a text message, but still keeping one eye on the situation. And then her glance fell back on Javier, who seemed to be watching her expectantly.

"...okay," Rossy said at last, flexing her spine to puff out her chest, making herself as imposing as she physically could, "...so let me ask, just one final time."

His brow raised.

She enunciated as clearly as she could. "What. Do you want me. To do?"

He nodded and carefully laid out his response. "Let Priya install the app on your eye. Show us that it works. And if it does, then let Priya run a simple query on your hardware so we can copy down any hardware information we can, so I can track down the company who builds your parts and buy them out too. And that's all there is to it."

Rossy stared back, trying to probe deep into his expression, as if doing so might reveal any hidden motives or additional catches behind those intense, dark eyes of his. But Javier was too good at this game and refused to look away. She had to break contact first when an important red light popped up in her field of view.

_ 0KAY R0SSY, LISTEN UP. WE'RE IN A BAD SITUATI0N HERE S0 I'M G0ING T0 BE C0MPLETELY LEVEL WITH Y0U. I D0N'T HAVE A KILL SWITCH. I CAN'T C0NTR0L Y0U. MY J0B IS T0 MAKE SURE Y0U EARN M0NEY AND SEND IT BACK T0 US T0 HELP PAY WHAT Y0U 0WE F0R THIS B0DY. I'M HERE T0 KEEP Y0U 0N TRACK. IF JAVIER CAN TRACK US, MY B0SS IS G0NNA HAVE MY HEAD, AND I D0N'T MEAN FIGURATIVELY. R0SSY, I'M BEGGING Y0U. D0 N0T D0 THIS. HE CAN'T T0UCH Y0U IF Y0U D0N'T AGREE T0 HIS DEAL. JUST PLEASE, D0 WHAT I'M ASKING. _

Moments like these were the ones Rossy wished her brain operated like any other computer did, and that she could process many thousands of thoughts in a second. She'd learned so much in the past hour that she felt she might need a week to process it all. But a week was a luxury at this point, she was flat broke when it came to spare time.

She had a choice to make, here and now. This was her final hour, just like the ones in her favorite video games, where there were two possible endings but you could only choose one. And in real life, she couldn't just pick one and then look up the other ending online before deciding which one to accept as canon. No, in real life, a choice like this was permanent. There wasn't much time to debate the specifics.

The only thing worth debating was the fact that she actually HAD a choice this time. Nearly every waking moment of the past year had been accompanied by a mysterious entity inside her head that insisted on "guiding" her. Controlling her. And making choices for her. All under the threat of instant termination.

And he'd been bluffing this whole time.

There was no time for weighing her options. All she could do in this moment was give both Javier - and, by consequence, Zhou - an answer.

So she did.

"...fine, let's get it over with already."

Javier gave her a small but gracious smile and a nod. He then turned to Priya and did the same.

Nervously, Priya cleared her throat and glanced around the room, looking for a couch or something slightly more comfortable than a plastic folding table and cheap assembly chairs. "...so, uh...like I said, I'd prefer if you were lying down and trying hard not to move your joints at all, so if you could just, uh...stretch out on the table, I guess?"

She received a corked eyebrow in response. "I'd rather not be treated like a Frankenstein monster in a laboratory, thanks. I'll use the chairs instead."

Removing her trademark maroon fedora, Rossy stretched herself out between two chairs, resting in what would be considered a very uncomfortable position for anyone with organic muscles and skin. She wondered if Zhou was furiously typing another message or if he was dialing up his "boss" in a panic. The thought of acting on entirely her own accord was an exciting and liberating feeling, and she felt determined to ride it out to its end.

"Ready?" Priya asked, giving her an awkward smile. Rossy hadn't fully realized until now just how cute the girl was, like a student nurse talking to a first-time patient.

"Go for it," she replied, flashing her a thumbs-up.

Priya nodded, raised a finger to jab the button on the keyboard, then paused. "...um...do we need to like...have her sign any release papers first or anything?"

Javier turned sharply to face her. "...why would we? Just a second ago you seemed sure installing the app wouldn't cause any problems."

"Well, I mean, yeah…" Priya sputtered back, with a nervous gulp. "Just...thinking out loud, I guess. I mean, you did want a 'security guy' present for this meeting, so...just looking out for number one, I guess, heh...".

He seemed to understand, and half-smiled back. "Like I said, I'm not interested in getting legal involved if I don't have to. We're all adults here, aren't we? I think we can all trust each other. Don't necessarily have to get the courts involved to keep everything legal, if you know what I mean."

Rossy made sure that line was recorded and saved to her notes file.

"Good initiative though," he added. "I appreciate your enthusiasm and willingness to follow the security rules. I'm sure Lukas appreciates it too, though I imagine he'll be happier we're saving him the paperwork by skirting the legal parts, am I right?"

Priya chuckled nervously, then shrugged and tapped the button with a loud 'click' sound.

_ Wait, buttons don't go 'click', do they? I thought buttons go 'tap'...? _

Javier turned slowly to see Lukas standing behind him, arm outstretched and ending with a hand wrapped around a small pistol, just like a badass villain in a movie.

"Thanks for the confession, Javier. Now put your hands up and do exactly as I fucking tell you."


	13. An Unnecessarily Hostile Takeover

Javier slowly put his hands into the air. "...Lukas? What the hell is this about?"

"Shut up," came the curt reply. "And stand against the wall."

He must have heard Priya's slow gasp, because he turned sharply toward her, his cold glare almost as intimidating as the glare of the pistol in his hand. "And you two better not say a fucking word, either."

Buttoning her lip and swallowing the air she'd just gasped in, Priya managed a terrified nod back and silently screamed inside her brain. Rossy resisted the urge to leap up and do her job as the bouncer, if only because she didn't want to risk something going wrong with the installation. If someone as code-savvy as Priya was worried something might happen, then Rossy wasn't willing to chance it. She only had one body, and she'd already risked enough by going against Zhou's explicit instructions.

"I promise, I'll do exactly what you tell me to," Javier took over, hands still raised. "Just tell me what's going on."

"I already told you exactly what to do," Lukas warned, pressing him against the wall as he pulled his phone from his pocket. "Now shut your fucking mouth."

_ R0SSY, TALK T0 ME. Y0UR VIEW FR0ZE UP 0N MY END, I CAN'T SEE WHAT'S HAPPENING. ARE Y0U EVEN ALIVE? _

She opened her mouth to respond, then shut it.  _ No more speech-to-text tonight, Rossy...it's already gotten you in this much trouble. Ugh...gotta use the on-screen keyboard instead… _

She hated the keyboard. For a person with organic thumbs tapping on a screen, typing messages was a snap, but for a cyborg who relied on a virtual overlay built directly into her eyes, speech-to-text was the only viable option if you wanted to get your point across in the next twenty-four hours. With the keyboard, she had to manually point her eyes directly at each letter, then wait a half-second for each key to register. Her typical brand of sarcastic response would take hours to type this way, so she kept it brief.

  1. N. S. T. A. L. L. I. N. G. Space. A. P. P. Enter.



Fortunately, for all the time it took for her to type it, Lukas hadn't made any other moves yet. He'd apparently been trying to do the same exact thing she had, typing a one-handed text message as he kept his pistol hand pressed against Javier's back. And judging from his expression, he seemed to hate typing on a keyboard almost as much as she did.

"...who are you texting?" Javier dared to ask.

"I told you to shut the hell up," Lukas replied, frowning as he jabbed backspace a few times with his thumb. "You'll find out soon enough."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

The "waiting" icon continued to spin in Rossy's notifications tray. A red light indicated she had another response from Zhou as well.

_ Too many notifications, _ she groused to herself.  _ I need to do something. I'm the damn bouncer, aren't I? Sergey's gonna grill my ass and mount it if I don't get up right now and do my job… _

_...but… _

The waiting icon maintained its inevitable spin cycle.

_...what am I waiting for, really? Do I really need to sit here and wait for this program to install before I dare to move a muscle? Haven't I already put myself in enough danger, letting some random kid programmer have her way with me, even against the wishes of my text-message ghost? What's a little more danger gonna hurt at this point? What more do I have to lose? _

_...my life…? _

_...no, something tells me my life is too important to Zhou and his boss. They won't just LET me die. They want me alive. They want me to pay off my bills. They want to see this body they gave me fulfill its intended purpose. If that means fucking it up somehow in the process, well...tough shit, that's the kind of risks you take when you give an Organic a Robot's body. _

_...so I say FUCK IT. _

"What did you just say?" Lukas turned sharply in her direction.

Thrusting her whole body forward in a series of angular, mechanical motions, Rossy rose to her feet. "I said, FUCK. THIS."

"No no no, I told you not to get up!" Priya pleaded, reaching out to snatch Rossy's wrist and snagging the belt loop of her jeans instead.

"That guy has a gun, Priya," she hissed back, not taking her eyes off the weapon. "I have a job to do."

"Nice of you to notice," said Lukas, dryly. "But this doesn't concern you. Sit your ass back down."

"As long as you're in my strip club, it DOES concern me," she fired back, taking a step closer.

The barrel of the gun changed direction, now pointed squarely at her face. "I'll rephrase. This doesn't NEED to concern you. Sit. The fuck. Down."

Rossy blinked, then cocked her head and shot up a brow. "What, you think a little bullet's gonna stop a cyber body?"

Lukas didn't move, but seemed to consider this new information for a moment. Then his eyes shifted over toward the other warm body in the room. He aimed the pistol at Priya instead.

Rossy was sure she'd just felt the bottom of her stomach drop open, and coolant fluid drip down her legs. She knew that was bullshit, but her brain had supplied the imagery just the same. She slowly put her hands up.

Keeping the gun trained on Priya, Lukas jabbed a few more keys on his phone, then continued. "Now here's what's gonna happen. I'm gonna march our friend Javier out the front door. I'm gonna take him to my car, and we're gonna drive off together into the moonlight, like a bad romance movie. And if anyone says so much as a word before I get into that car, they're gonna be eating bullets for dessert. You got that?"

Quivering, Priya managed to nod back. Rossy didn't say a word.

_...need to alert Sergey somehow...get him to call the police or something. But how? I can't just call him, and that asshole never checks his text messages...who else can I call? _

One name came to mind…

"...can you at least tell me why?" Javier asked, now that the gun wasn't pressed against his spine anymore.

"Why do you think?" Lukas spat back, furiously thumbing through something on his phone.

_ Yeah, that's it, just keep buying me time… _

"Does someone want me dead?" he asked, calmly as ever.

Lukas responded with a puff of air from his nostrils, probably the closest noise to a laugh he'd ever made in his life. "If someone wanted you dead, we wouldn't be talking right now."

  1. A. N. Space. Y. O. U. Space. S. E. E. Space. R. I. G. H. T. Space. N. O. W.



"Where are you gonna take me?" Javier continued, face still against the wall.

"Wouldn't you like to know," was the best answer he was going to get.

_ I CAN'T SEE SHIT, R0SSY. WHATEVER GARBAGE Y0U'RE INSTALLING RIGHT N0W IS FUTZING WITH MY REM0TE C0NNECTI0N. BUT Y0U'RE STILL ABLE T0 MESSAGE ME, S0 Y0U'RE APPARENTLY STILL C0NNECTED T0 THE INTERNET...SEE IF Y0U CAN 0PEN UP A VIDE0 STREAM 0R S0METHING. _

Her brain lit up.  _ Of course! _

From her virtual overlay, she opened a web browser and pulled up the JetStreamer site from her Favorites. Her notifications tray blinked. The app had finished installing. Perfect timing…

Javier continued to stall, possibly hoping Lukas would spill just enough beans for Priya and Rossy to make a full report to the police he was sure they'd call in after Lukas drove off. "Who are you, really?"

"What kinda question is that?" came the reply, accompanied by another impatient glance at the phone. "I'm Lukas, your 'security guy'."

With a dramatic flourish, Rossy raised one hand to her temple and rolled her wrist joint, making the forward slicing motion she'd seen in Priya's demo video. A prompt appeared on her overlay, asking if she wanted to record video. She felt her lip curl up into a sly smile...

...which then immediately crashed into a frown. The program was asking for a wi-fi password.

_...you've gotta be fucking kidding me. What was Sergey's weird-ass password again? _

"What, you got something to say?" Lukas prompted, this time speaking to Rossy. He'd apparently noticed her hand move, but hadn't made the connection.

Hesitating for half a second, she replied with, "...just put the gun down, man. You don't have to be so dramatic."

"Nah," was all she got in response as Lukas's phone vibrated. He opened the notification as if he'd been waiting for it all day...

_...idea! _

Rossy shot a glance over toward Priya, who seemed to be making herself as tiny as possible behind her laptop screen. Like any laptop-respecting geek would, she had a sticker on the lid that read 'If found, please call Priya Kapur at…'. Rossy hastily pulled up the messaging app.

  1. H. A. T. S. Space. T. H. E. Space. W. I. F. I. Space. P. A. S. S. W. O. R. D. Enter.



"I'm with Rossybelle," Javier put in, still facing the wall. "I'll be more than happy to cooperate, just put the gun away and don't shoot anybody, okay?"

His hands shot back up as Lukas jabbed his spine with the barrel of the pistol. "I've had just about enough out of you. Our ride's almost here, and I'm sure we'll have plenty of time shoot the breeze once we get you buckled in."

Before Javier could protest, they were interrupted by a high-pitched "meow" sound. Lukas whipped around toward the source of the noise to find Priya, scrambling to silence her phone and cursing her adorable custom notification sound.

"Don't answer that," he growled.

"I-I'm just going to...silence it…" she managed to spit out.

"Good. No more surprises."

Rossy saw her hunch over and whisper "sorry" as she tapped the volume button on the side of her phone.  _ Poor girl...I'm sorry too, for startling you...but please for the love of god don't ignore that text… _

"What ARE we waiting for, exactly?" Javier pressed, proving that corporate business people really are incapable of knowing when to fold.

"I told you to shut the fuck up," Lukas warned, ramming him against the wall with his shoulder. "Can't just walk outside and wait for the getaway van out in the open, can I?"

New message.

_??? who is this _

Rossy looked over at Priya. She had her eye on Lukas, but held her phone face-up against her leg, one finger hovering over the keyboard. Rossy was honestly impressed.

  1. O. S. S. Y. B. E. L. L. E. Enter.



"So this is a robbery, then?"

Lukas pocketed his phone and grabbed Javier's wrist. "One more word and I start breaking pinkies."

Priya's eyes were rapidly darting back and forth between the action and her phone, her finger jabbing the screen in precise, staggered movements as a muffled bass beat kicked in from the stage outside.

"Unless you want my boot up your ass, you'd better not," Rossy stepped in, trying to keep the stall up just a little longer.

"I thought we went over this," Lukas shot back, thankfully not with the gun he had once again aimed at her.

New message.

_ Why are you asking me, don't you like, work here? One sec _

She bit her synthetic lip.

"Back up," Lukas commanded, waving the gun at her. "NOW."

New message.

_ It's Cyb3r0t1qu3. You're welcome. _

Rossy held her ground as she carefully keyed in the password.

"NOW!" he repeated, louder.

She refreshed the JetStreamer site, connected her video stream, and made the Gesture.

"Last chance." He pointed the gun at Priya.

Rossy took a moment to tag a friend she'd recently found on the JetStreamer site, then threw herself full force toward Lukas.

The man may have taken pride in his threatening stature - broad shoulders, iron grip, and no-bullshit attitude that would make even the toughest customer think twice about going toe-to-toe with him - but if there's one reason able-bodied Organic people resent Cyborgs, it's because their mechanical strength gives them an "unfair advantage" when it comes to certain physical activities, such as running marathons, lifting boxes, and bouncing troublesome patrons in strip clubs.

Rossy heard the wind fly out of his lungs as she pinned him against the wall beneath a couple hundred pounds of carbon fiber and shielded circuitry. She was certain she'd heard something crack as well, but - being unable to physically feel his body against hers - she couldn't tell if she'd crushed something important or not.

In an effort to swing his gun arm around and underneath hers, Lukas managed to fire off a few shots before Javier wrestled the gun out of his hands. Rossy heard a scream and a ricochet sound behind her, but as she turned to look, Lukas managed to slip out of her grasp, worming his way out of his trenchcoat.

Priya had her hands over her head, and seemed to staring heartbroken at her laptop, now sporting several fresh bullet holes and a broken screen.

Back on his feet, Lukas made a mad dive for the table in an attempt to take Priya hostage. He undershot his goal and bashed his head against the side of table as Javier struggled to flip the gun around in his hands without accidentally firing another shot. Priya made no move to escape, but clutched her laptop to keep it steady, as if the rest of the fight wasn't even happening around her anymore.

Stunned, Lukas managed to hoist himself up using a chair as support, just in time for Rossy to body slam him right back down to the ground. Struggling as if his life depended on it, Lukas tried every defensive move he knew - grabbing at her silicone face, gouging at her reinforced glass eyes, trying to break her carbon fiber ribs against his knee, even going so far as jabbing the steel toe of his boot into her prosthetic crotch - but synthetic skin feels no pain, and his efforts only served to piss Rossy off even more.

With a quick series of complicated precision finger movements, she ejected the butterfly knife from her hand and held the blade to his throat.

"You about done?" she hissed at him, pressing her face in close.

He spit in her face, having already forgotten such tactics wouldn't work on her.

"So what the fuck, Lukas?" she asked, bearing down on him even harder. "What's all this big bad strongman bullshit about?"

He was breathing hard, but didn't respond. He seemed to be looking for anything else he could use to continue the fight.

Javier appeared at the other corner of his vision. "What exactly do you want with me, Lukas?"

The man remained silent, save for his continued labored breathing.

Rossy, finally taking a moment to think instead of acting on pure instinct, pulled up the recorded transcript of the conversation from before. "...'confession'. You said 'Thanks for the confession'. What did Javier confess to, exactly?"

Still nothing.

"We're not going to hurt you, Lukas," Javier added, squatting down beside him. "But if you're going to accuse me of something, you should at least let me know what it is so I can feel bad about it."

He kept quiet...

...then made a wild grab for Javier's gun hand, jerked it into place, and fired a shot as close to Rossy's face as he could manage.

The sound echoed for what felt like an entire minute before Rossy regained her cognitive functions.

The video stream was still running.

Lukas was still struggling to breathe beneath her.

Her notifications tray was blinking.

She was still alive.

...but her trademark wine red fedora with the bushy feather lay on the ground beside her, pierced by a single clean bullet hole.

As she turned back to Lukas, filled with rage, something else in the corner of her eye caught her attention.

_...finally. Thank god. _

The door to the practice room stood wide open, and filling its frame was none other than Sergey himself.

And in his hands was a menacing shotgun, pointed steadfast at Lukas.

And in the dim hallway behind him, peering cautiously around his shoulder, was the worried face of the very same friend Rossy had tagged on the video stream.

Their eyes met.

Millie breathed a sigh of relief and shook her head. "Jesus, Rossy...there ARE better ways of getting my attention, you know...".


	14. The Cost of Freedom

"So that's the story," Rossy concluded, leaning against the bar. "Lukas was gonna have Javier busted for his shady business deals, buying out startup competitors so he could control the cybernetics market or whatever it is corporate villains do."

She turned toward the corporate villain in question. "...uh, no offense."

Javier made a face, then shrugged. "Call them as you see them, I suppose."

"Someone has a bounty out on Javier's head, essentially," she added, crossing her arms. "Lukas was just a wannabe bounty hunter disguised as a computer security expert or whatever he was."

"Bounty hunter..." Sergey repeated, unimpressed. "That what he calls himself, or did you deduce that on your own?"

"I said essentially," she brushed it off. "Bounty hunter, hired goon, whatever you wanna call it."

_ DEFENSE C0NTRACT0R IS THE W0RD Y0U'RE L00KING F0R. Y0U'RE WELC0ME, BY THE WAY. _

"Shut up."

Sergey raised a brow.

"No, not you, I mean...whatever, I told my story and I'm done talking now."

"Listen to you over here," Millie cut in, sitting on a nearby stool with a drink in hand. "Barely a month into your new job and already you're dealing with bounty hunters and criminal business. You're either sucking up to the boss man here or you're the unluckiest damn woman I've ever met."

"Unlucky my ass," Rossy snorted back. "Look at all the great people I've gotten to meet in just one month."

Millie nodded and took attendance of the room around them. "A corporate villain, a hacker nerd, a shady bartender, and a scary guy in a trenchcoat. What an all-star cast."

"You forgot the sassy sexy stripper who looks like she could use a fresh drink," she countered, shutting off the video stream for Zhou as she slid her way over to the seat beside her.

The sassy sexy stripper raised a hand to her lips in mock surprise. "Oh my, but I seem to have left my wallet in my other tear-away pants."

"Then maybe you'd better let me buy you a drink," Rossy nudged with a wink-blink. Well, she thought it was a wink, anyway.

"Ugh," came the exasperated cough of the so-called hacker nerd from the other end of the bar. "As much as I'd love to sit here and listen to more sickeningly sweet flirting, it's extremely late and I have to get home and prepare a funeral for my deceased laptop. Soooo...if we're done here…?"

Javier stepped forward and stood imposingly in her way. "...not quite, Priya. We still have a deal to sign, remember?"

Priya let her eyes slowly travel up to meet his. She hated the feeling of others towering over her, but had also put up with a little more than her daily recommended allowance of bullshit for one day, and simply sighed heavily. "...fine. You got the papers?"

He gave her a half-smile and pulled a short stack of contract papers from a briefcase nobody even noticed he'd been carrying, and lay them on the table beside her. "I'll give you a moment to read through them."

She shot him a questioning look, but he quickly turned around and walked back over toward Rossy.

"Sorry to, ahm...bother you again, Rossybelle," he said, infringing on the copyright of her Daily Millie Time. "...but I need to ask you something very important."

Rossy paused, then rolled her neck joints around to glare back over her shoulder at him. "It sure BETTER be important."

He took a moment, spooling up all his thoughts onto a finger, then spoke. "Rossybelle, as I mentioned earlier, I know you're made of second-hand cybernetic parts. You're not a genuine Phantom model."

She blinked back. "...okay, and…? You just gonna rub it in some more, or what?"

He seemed to be looking for a very specific set of words floating somewhere just in front of his face. "As you mentioned earlier, I'm not particularly keen on these second-hand startup companies stealing my business, and I AM willing to buy them out if it means better quality control of the cybernetics market."

"Good, so I've at least got you pegged correctly," she replied, turning all the way around. "But what the hell do you WANT?"

Again, Javier seemed to be searching for just the right words. Rossy noticed she had a message in her notifications tray, and decided to read it while Javier formulated his sentence.

_ ALRIGHT, VERY FUNNY, Y0U SHUT ME 0UT 0F THE VIDE0 STREAM RIGHT BEF0RE THINGS G0T ANY GAYER. I'M W0RKING 0N A WAY T0 REST0RE MY REM0TE ACCESS AS WE SPEAK, S0 ENJ0Y Y0UR PRIVACY WHILE Y0U CAN. I DID WANT T0 SAY 0NE M0RE THING, TH0UGH… _

Javier got there first. "You don't KNOW who built you, Rossybelle. Correct?"

"You could say that," she agreed, vaguely.

"But we know you're made of knock-off parts that are more or less identical to the ones my company produces," he continued, walking through the sentence with hand motions. "...which, I'll remind you, is illegal under copyright law."

"Get to the point, Javier, I've got better shit to do tonight than listen to you prattle on."

He smiled knowingly. "I think we can help each other out on this one."

Her brow raised as the words "New message" flashed briefly on screen.

_ SEE, I KN0W A GUY WH0 DEALS IN DEFENSE C0NTRACTS, AND I ASKED HIM T0 D0 S0ME DIGGING F0R ME. THAT'S H0W I KN0W THERE'S AN 0PEN C0NTRACT T0 RETRIEVE 0UR FRIEND JAVIER HERE. S0ME0NE'S G0T IT 0UT F0R THIS GUY, AND MY M0NEY'S 0N 0NE 0F THESE "N0-NAME" CYBERNETICS C0MPANIES HE WAS TALKING AB0UT. Y0U WITH ME? _

Rossy took a moment to read it, then replied, "...you think there's a knock-off cybernetics company out there looking to kidnap Jav--I mean...kidnap you?"

"Possibly, yes," he agreed, pointing a finger at her. "Which begs the question, how's a big shot like me going to protect myself from some mysterious, untraceable entity sending hitmen after me?"

Rossy shook her head, expressionless. "...what are you saying, you wanna hire me as a bodyguard or something?"

"You can use me as a reference if you want," Millie put in, elbowing Rossy in the rib.

"I don't need hired muscle, Rossybelle," he replied, leaning in just a bit closer. "I don't solve my problems with muscle, you ought to know that by now."

New message.

_ THE NICE THING AB0UT DEFENSE C0NTRACTS, R0SSY, IS THAT THEY'RE SHADY AS HELL. DESIGNED BY THEIR VERY NATURE T0 SKIRT THE LEGAL SYSTEM. DIRTY DEEDS D0NE DIRT CHEAP, S0 T0 SPEAK. JAVIER'S G0T A B0UNTY 0N HIS HEAD, AND IF I'M READING HIS C0NTRACT RIGHT, THEN N0B0DY GIVES A RAT'S ASS WH0 BRINGS HIM IN. STILL WITH ME 0N THIS? _

"...you like to skirt the legal system," she said with a nod.

Javier nodded back. "So if I could just somehow...find my way into the seedy underworld of these no-name knock-off cybernetics companies who apparently hate me enough to want me kidnapped, then maybe I could find a way to 'skirt the legal system', buy them all out, and maybe get these god-forsaken hitmen off my back."

Rossy considered this for an entire second. "Okay, good plan and all, but how does all this concern ME?"

He took a moment, then pulled up a stool and leaned in close. "...you might be the key to understanding all of this."

Staring back with the unblinking, unmoving stare of an inanimate machine as she considered his words, she probably looked more intimidating than she felt. Javier seemed used to eye contact though, and maintained staring back as she put two and two together.

_ He wants to use me to track down the people who built me...figures, leave it to a corporate suit to see a person as nothing but a means from A to B. I'm not just an asset, Javier. I'm a person. I have my own hopes and dreams I'm trying to live out here. You can't just treat me like some cog in YOUR machine… _

She realized she must have looked like she was staring, and forced herself to blink and look away. She wanted to huff and tell him off right then and there.

But…

_...what happens if I DO find out who built me, though? What happens to me if we track them down, and Javier buys them out? Do I just become Javier's property, is that what he's after? Or is buying them out gonna buy me out of my debt? _

New message.

_ LISTEN. I GET THE FEELING JAVIER'S G0NNA TRY T0 USE Y0U T0 TRACK D0WN WH0 MADE Y0U. THE D0CT0R. THE D0CT0R'S SUPPLIER. HELL, PR0BABLY ME T00. BUT HE D0ESN'T KN0W I'M IN Y0UR HEAD, R0SSY. HE D0ESN'T KN0W THAT I KN0W AB0UT THE DEFENSE C0NTRACT. AND IF Y0U F0LL0W MY LEAD, R0SSY...HE'LL NEVER SEE IT C0MING. GET IT? _

She really wished she had a pair of lungs right now, to take a deep breath.

"...Rossybelle?" Javier prompted again, politely.

She finally acknowledged him again. "...so let me get all of this straight. You want to examine me, take my hardware apart, and use it to track down whatever generic-brand knockoff cybernetics company made me, so you can buy them out and keep your edge on the market?"

"Oh heavens no," he replied, waving the suggestion off. "We don't have to take you apart at all. We have software for that. Hell, I even have Priya for that now. Girl's young, but extremely resourceful and smart as a whip. I'm sure she can whip up a program for it."

"What, she's gonna join you too?"

He glanced back over at the young nerd, carefully poring over the pages of the contract. "Well, if she's as smart as I take her for, she won't say no. Hopefully, I can get the same response out of you as well."

Rossy crossed her arms, one finger tapping automatically against her silicone bicep. "Alright, then what happens to me if I say yes?"

Turning back to face her, Javier took a breath and steepled his fingers. "If I'm reading this right, Rossy...you are by far the most mechanical person I've ever seen. I wasn't sure it was even possible to have as many organic parts removed as you have. And all that cyber-surgery couldn't have been cheap."

She blinked back at him.

"...no bouncer I've ever met makes that kind of money, Rossybelle," he continued, lowering his voice even further. "You're probably six feet under debt right now, and desperate to find any job that'd hire a cyborg. Now I could be completely wrong about that, but in all my years as a corporate executive, I've found that money on the table tends to rewrite the books."

With a flick of his wrist, he produced a small business card from thin air and flicked it in her direction. "Help me get rid of my competition, and I'll help get you out of your debt. No strings, no bullshit. Think about it and get back to me."

And with that, he pulled himself back up to his feet, nodded, and strode back over toward Priya to seal the deal.

New message.

_ Y0U'RE A BIG GIRL NOW, R0SSY...S0 I'LL LET Y0U MAKE THIS CALL. STICK CL0SE T0 Y0UR BUDDY JAVIER, GET HIM C0RNERED, AND SPRING THE TRAP Y0URSELF. TURN HIM IN, C0LLECT THE B0UNTY, AND GET Y0UR BILLS THAT MUCH CL0SER T0 PAID 0FF. I'LL BE HERE T0 HELP PULL WHATEVER STRINGS GET IN Y0UR WAY. REMEMBER, I'M N0T Y0UR ENEMY, R0SSY. JUST THE V0ICE IN Y0UR HEAD MAKING SURE Y0U PAY 0FF WHAT Y0U 0WE. Y0UR CALL EITHER WAY, BUT IF IT WERE ME? I'D LISTEN T0 THE V0ICE THAT'S HELPED Y0U GET THIS FAR. GET BACK T0 ME WHEN Y0U CAN. _

That was all it said. Rossy even re-read the message to make sure that was all it said. That was it. That was all. Just another businessman out to ruin his competitors to ensure that his own business would be the one that thrived.

And the ever-constant stream of time continued to flow.

"So you gonna do it, or what?" a pleasant voice prompted from over her shoulder.

Rossy came back into her own head and turned to face Millie. "...oh yeah, you're still here."

"Mhmm," she nodded, head propped against her palm. "Kind of hard not to eavesdrop out here."

"Mmm," Rossy replied vaguely. "...given me a lot to think about, though."

"Really? Seems like an easy choice to me."

This time Rossy finally looked Millie in the eye. "...what makes you say that?"

"Money," she answered, automatically. "I don't know what the specifics are, but it sounded like he's offering you a butt-load of money. Can't be THAT hard of a decision if there's a butt-load of money involved, can it?"

"Well...I mean, yeah, it's tempting, but…" she paused a moment to play out the thought. "...is it really worth all that?"

"All that what?" Millie pressed. "You do hard work, you get money for it, you use the money to do what you want in life. That's how the world works, isn't it?"

Rossy sighed. "...you're not wrong."

"Then do it," she insisted, still resting her head. "Get yourself clear of debt, move out, then chase your dreams. You could be whatever you wanna be."

It was Rossy's turn to prop her head up on her elbow. "...you sound pretty sure of yourself on this one. Maybe you're speaking from experience?"

There was just a hint of a pause before Millie replied. "...and what if I am?"

"Well, look where it's gotten you." Rossy gestured to Millie's colorful choice of evening dress. "You told me you didn't wanna just be a stripper when you grew up, yet here you are, still doing it for a living, even vlogging about it now too. What happened to chasing YOUR dreams?"

"Hey." Millie pushed herself upright, then leaned in closer to get serious. "Who the hell said I'm not still chasing my dreams? I can show my tits to strangers for a living and still be chasing my dreams."

"Okay, okay," she submitted, mimicking Millie's body language. "I just...you never told me what you REALLY wanted to be, so I assumed you just took this job to save up until you could one day chase your dreams for real, or something."

Millie took a deep breath, held it for an extra second, then let it back out slowly. "...alright, listen. You wanna know what my dream was? What my dream STILL IS?"

Rossy nodded, eager for story time.

Taking a moment to lock eyes with her, Millie continued. "All my life, I've only wanted to convince young girls to do whatever they love, no matter what anyone else tells them. Your parents say you can't play sports because boys are too rough, you learn to be rough and play sports anyway. You want to learn math and physics to become an astronaut, but nobody takes you seriously cause you're drop-dead gorgeous? You show them brains and beauty are two sides of the same damn coin. You want to make your own money on your own work but your parents insist on getting you a job from the inside so it'll be easier for you, then you--!"

She paused, eyes shifting around the room as she came to realize how loud she'd been getting. She lowered her voice again. "...you rebel and decide to be a stripper, making your own money on your own work. And you learn to be the BEST stripper, and you show other women HOW you are the best stripper, and you show them WHY you chose to be the best stripper."

Millie paused again, no longer making eye contact. She turned away, making a swipe for her drink. She seemed to be done with her story.

Rossy knew a cue when she saw one and picked up the slack. "...so which one was you?"

"...what?"

"Did you want to play sports, do math, be an astronaut, or just make your own money?"

Taking a big gulp, Millie set her empty glass back down, resumed eye contact with Rossy, and cracked into a half-smile. "...all of the above."

The moment lingered, then the smile spread to Rossy's face as well. "Heh...always figured there was more to you than just the skin deep stuff."

Millie's brow raised. "...skin deep? Really?"

Rossy found herself once again incredibly grateful that synthetic cheeks couldn't blush. She eased into a sly grin and replied, "...well, I just mean that it's one thing to bare your skin up on stage. It's another thing to bare your soul to someone you...uh, really care about. Y'know?"

Millie didn't blink for a few seconds, but seemed to take a deep breath. "...that was the cheesiest thing I've ever heard in my life."

Rossy's mouth opened, but she didn't have time to respond.

In one fluid movement, Millie slid down off her stool and brought Rossy in for a warm embrace. She locked her arms around Millie's back, careful not to squeeze the joints too tightly and risk crushing her, but keeping them tight enough to show she meant it. She wanted to press Millie's face against her silicone chest and run fingers through her hair, among other things, but somehow felt acutely aware of the others in the room who might be watching.

Millie didn't seem to mind though, and gave Rossy a quick but meaningful kiss on the cheek before slowly returning to her seat. She seemed to be holding back tears, not one to cry publicly. Rossy felt like she too was holding back tears, even though she knew her body didn't work that way anymore. Instead, she managed a warm smile as she kept her hand atop Millie's.

And as the moment dissipated back into regular old reality, Millie regained her composure and asked, again, "...so, you gonna do it, or what?"

Rossy took her time before responding. "You really think I should take the deal? Agree to be a human cyborg experiment, help some corporate goon shut out his generic-brand competitors, and get out of my own medical debt in the process?"

"Like I said, if I were you, I'd do it." Millie pushed a stray lock of hair back over her ear. "Get yourself free, do whatever you want after that."

"...sounds so easy when you say it like that."

Millie gave her a shrug. "I guess it just WAS easy for me. I was probably thinking only of myself, to be honest...".

A thought that had been bothering Rossy this whole time finally breached the surface.

"...so what happens to the competition if I help Javier take them out?" she asked, not necessarily to Millie. "I mean...I guess he's not putting them completely out of business, he's just buying them and adding them into his own company. They'll just be working for HIM. Which is fine, I suppose, but...".

"...but what?"

Rossy glanced down at her hand. HER hand. Her biomechanical, synthetically-built hand, given to her to replace the flesh-and-blood hand that she'd lost when her whole body had been paralyzed in the car accident that had happened what felt like a lifetime ago.

_...no, not MY hand. The hand that was given to me to REPLACE my hand. This isn't MY body...I should be dead right now, but I'm not, because someone gave me a new body. They unplugged my brain and screwed it into a body that looks like mine, and Zhou told me I could keep it as long as I paid for it… _

_...I should be DEAD right now… _

_...but I'm not… _

_...why? _

She felt her fingers close into a fist.

_...why did they give ME a body? You read stories about this kind of thing all the time, but there's always some convenient explanation, like it's for top-secret government research, or the military's making super soldiers, or some asshole is pushing the limits of science just to see if he can...but why ME? I'm nobody… _

She flexed her fingers, opened and closed the fist a few times, consciously thinking about each individual movement.

_ I'm not a top secret government project...I'm just an average citizen. And the people who built my body are just generic brand copycats...maybe I'm just THEIR experiment, to see if they can build people like me cheaper than Phantom can. _

She frowned and grabbed her own wrist, looking closely at the smooth, lineless silicone skin of her palm.

_ Why am I acting like that's a bad thing? There's nothing wrong with generic brand...hell, if I'd had a choice back then, I probably would have asked for generic brand anyway. I'd never be able to afford Phantom parts… _

Millie was watching her expectantly, but respectfully remained silent with her hands in her lap.

_...so what if there are other people out there like me? What if there are others who could never afford Phantom parts, but might one day be able to pay off generic brand parts? If I join up with Javier, I'd be putting them out of business, getting rid of the affordable option for...god, I don't know, hundreds, maybe thousands of people? _

She felt vaguely aware of footsteps approaching behind her.

_...but if I follow Zhou's idea and kidnap Javier, I'll be in deeper shit than I've ever been in my entire life. Not to mention that bastard will still be in my head, condescending me, questioning my every move, watching through my eyes whenever he wants to… _

Her eyes finally met Millie's again.

_...and if I go along with Zhou, I probably won't ever see Millie again… _

The footsteps stopped.

With a blink, Rossy came back to life. She nodded to Millie and turned around to face Javier, who stood with his arms behind his back.

"...sorry to bother you again," he said, clearing his throat. "Just letting you know that I'm about to head out. Please hang on to my contact info and let me know whether you're in or out on the deal."

"Wait."

He paused, giving her his full attention.

Rossy took a deep breath. She imagined cogs and gears spinning in her not-in-the-least-bit-mechanical brain, still arguing over the moral and personal implications of the situation. When it came down to it, she'd either be taking control of her own life and living for herself, or sacrificing her shot at freedom for the continued benefit of others. Somewhere deep down, she'd already made her choice. She took just one more look at her surroundings to convince herself that it was the "right" choice.

She exhaled.

"I'm not leaving this place. I've got a good thing going here, and I'm not willing to give up all the people I've met and just move on without them."

Javier didn't respond. She could almost FEEL Millie's smile breaking out behind her.

"...so, if you really want to do this, you and Priya better book a few extra nights."

It was Javier's turn to smile.

Hands were shook, and a deal was struck.

Rossybelle had taken control of her own life back.


End file.
